I’m getting rid of all the beautiful,
Discarding in wastebasket
Wheelbarrows full of hopeful sands
Slipping through stubby fingers,
Fat suction cups grudgingly clinging
To bitter-sweet nostalgia,
A product of miscounting stones
On Sysphus’ Hill.
Once the dust clears, once
This rubble
Is stacked in piles
Weighing measured metric tons,
Heavy trucks will come
Marking ground with massive
Noisy tires where rain
Fills tracks left behind
Providing man-made lakes
For ants who care very little
For love or love lost
Or my brother’s ashes.
Dumpsters full, dump
Trucks guzzle waste
Down their backs to
Bury stuff beneath metal
Feet roving perpetual miles over earth
and wonder, life and death, things
that won’t burn but live in smoke,
things that fill the air.
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