Trash Day
By Coryn Clark, 27 May 2020
I try to get out before the garbage trucks arrive,
my pockets bulging with single-use plastic bags once banned
and now considered cleaner than my own reusable bags
sitting idly on the back seat of my car.
I carry bamboo tongs to pluck bits of trash
from empty sidewalks where painters’ tape marks
every six feet for the queue to pizza take-out,
past sandwich boards for curbside pick-up #1, #2, #3
at the dog grooming salon,
past the new ice cream shop,
closed by the pandemic before it opened –
essential businesses, all.
I target the debris of despair:
nips, needles, beer cans, gloves, masks, dryer sheets…
and shiny stuff that will not rot:
plastic bottles, metal caps, cellophane, foil…
but not the cigarettes –
I’ll not get past the bus stop if I pick up all the butts.
I hope when we wake from this coma
and when children are let outside to play
they won’t see how we trashed the world;
they won’t know that in our despair we didn’t care about tomorrow.
I walk home under a bright blue sky after filling all my bags,
leaving many other bits of trash for another day,
except one:
a small square tequila bottle perfect
for a few sprigs of lily of the valley,
yesterday’s trash,
today’s treasure.
*****
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