Garbage

and Wednesday is collection day--
black bags bulge, larval,
ready to burst, crammed full

of unwanted things--the lost
lines, the disappointments, the
dishes come undone in the

crucial moment when custard
turns to scrambled egg (so much
for that trifle, layered with
yellow cake and raspberry jam)

lost lines, lost letters, cello wrap,
clingfilm plastic, remnants of
meals, scarred sticks of furniture,
our old utensils, sad garments,
odds and endments, flotsom snared
in nets of plastic, waiting for

the Wednesday-men to rumble by,
snatching at these things--once
so lovely, so bright, so new