Trash Day

she lets the curtain fall
shuffling back
to the recliner
worn and dusty
both she
and the chair
waiting for someone
anyone
to change her view
tuesdays are best
the cans line
the narrow street
the poor come to
find the good stuff
the men come
to take it all away
she can pretend
they came to see her
and wave at them
as they pass out of sight
and the curtain falls
again

I was moved to write this after reading Rachel’s poem here.

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