Trash

Mashed up and burning.
I hate when I’m shopping and that happens.
Empty.
I never went home after that.
Hurts like popcorn in the microwave, burning.
Seething.
When I’m shopping for cooking utensils or things I can’t recall.
That I can’t recover in my bright eyes.
I’m in the store and there is clattering. Stop, slow motion.
And things like that.
I went to the garbage dump after that.
Tried to throw myself away.
An old banana peel grabbed my wrist-
Then tossed me back, and no one knows.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace