She didn’t like the term
“Dumpster Diving”
Even though she knew that’s what she was doing.
After all,
Another mans trash is another’s treasure.
She watched us all throw away our lives,
And she would pick up the pieces
Forming them into a poem
That you and I
Would sneer at because
It still reeked of landfill.
She would dig her fingernails
Into the dirt
Until she stroke fool’s gold.
Broken glass,
Would be made into a dagger,
And empty messages
Placed into bottles set out for sea.
Paper was made into planes,
And plastic into her mothers figure.
She would create fantasies
In her heaps of garbage.
She would sleep with the fishes.
Not because she had a choice,
Not because she had anything else to loose.
She would dumpster dive because
Everyone told her to go
Where true trash belongs.
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