Garbage Day
Apex of the round,
departure point for
points unknown, leaving
behind a clean slate
on which to compose
a fresh tale of need
and want met without
thought or grace or awe.
House's in a line
unmarked with the blood
of the lamb, offer
up styrofoam and
melon rinds instead
of innocent first
born sons. Sacrifice
to the off-shore gods
of low wages, buy-
in-bulk, race to the
bottom. The driver
leaves my can crushed on
the curb, lid sailing
away on the breeze.
November 3, 2011
