M. J. Arcangelini


Decades worth of photo albums tumble
Out of a garbage truck into the landfill,
Exposed to the sun, with wind seizing the
Heavy pages as they open among the rest
Of the useless trash of no interest at all
Even to the seagulls who flock and spiral,
Overhead squawking at anything that moves,
Constantly looking for edible morsels
Which are not to be found amidst the
Personal history of a single old man of
No importance who has died at last
Leaving behind too much stuff which
Was never of any value to anyone save
Himself and now his body is in the oven
And his photos will be viewed by rats.

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