On Trash day
a murder of crows collects
on clean white streert-side bags.
With scalpel snouts they spear each sack
a toss, a rip, a crow head
dips into the pack, retrieving
items curious and aromatic:
pizza crust, jagged moon
of strawberry, snazzy tin foil fresh
from the oven with a slick of grease.
Dinner conversation turns to scorn,
reaches hysteria as I open the screen
to scream and slam.
-- Mistryel Walker
Friday, April 10, 2009
April 10 Poem - Trash Day
write a poem for Fridays