I Have a Hard Time Using Certain Gifts

Pear shaped candles stand
an unlit trio,
glowing reproachful.
Round brown carnation soap,
in its pleated tissue washes my folded t-shirts
with clean cloveness.
It feels weirdly wasteful
to light the candles, sully
the soap with water.
But the sliver of soap
our hands have washed
into a Brancusi feather
this brief curve.