The desk is clear, dark,
One defined yellow square, post-it note,
Stuck there. Leaning down, I tear it sharply,
Pencil scribbles, just made out,
Says “Call back the dentist.”
I toss it and it floats curving,
A yellow square on the floor, two centimetres from the bin.
Prompt from Poetic Asides to write an information poem, remembering that not all information is created equal.