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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3800 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention 11 Dumpsters at Night Steve Williams Egglike bags, the color of maggots, hold the stuff that held the stuff; Neopolitan ice cream in rectangular containers. All is tossed here, trash chaos awaiting the steel fangs of the truck that snick in place on either side like braces. A diaper box, broken toaster, furniture boxes from Sweden, a small carton labeled ’39 hp calculators’. Set apart in a bottom corner, a box that held Christmas cards titled ‘Cats in Windows’. Grandpa used to cremate his trash in a rusted barrel, submit the ash to the breeze, liberate the packaged emptiness. A car full of people waits by one, the driver inside an apartment, I sidle past, unwilling to be seen investigating colored ornaments walled away behind “No Trespassing” signs, as if someone really wanted this stuff, these cages of air: bodies to be crushed in the earth. |
