Here's day 65 of #the100dayproject
Litter
I want to lie my spine down onto the grass one notch at a time
let the grass prick my skin like a million needles
let the bugs crawl on me. I cannot flinch.
To flinch assumes I have a self. That I am separate.
I want to have no self. I want to discard it
like the fast food bag, the gum wrapper
blowing in the wind beneath the oak tree.
I am the garbage can turned over, left open to the wind.
I am the pieces of shattered glass and the plastic bottle
floating in the gutter. Each day I lose my buoyancy,
I crumble into a finer dust. I am the refuse
forgotten or thrown out. I am the paper disintegrating into the grass.
My body takes its time, but I will return to the earth,
piece by piece, bone by bone. I am nothing more
than the newspapers moving like tumbleweeds in the wind.
I am the hand that does the tossing, the tossing that shames the hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment