The Municipal Dump  

Ragged ravens straddle the fence,
dangle from its thorny barbs.
Dirty plastic wings, tail feathers
trail and flutter in the breeze,
mark the route.

White gulls, silhouetted against black smoke, circle the pit,
the final resting place of the products of progress
of what we held dear, what we struggled to attain.
It is a Dürer woodcut come to life.
There a sofa, its soft viscera and coiled springs exposed,
here a carpet, rolled in upon itself in foetal position,
ashamed to expose its exterior.
There a TV, its face blank, suffocated by a lifetime of inanities.
All necessary, essential for a full, for a meaningful life.
All worn out, outmoded.

Dead tires circle the rim
stare with their hollow sockets at the veiled sky
are reflected in the TV's blind eye.

A dead heifer smolders at the
edge of the fire, adds its essence to the smoke,
perfumes the air with its burning flesh,
an incongruous offering that does not really
belong with all the other offerings on this altar to Mammon.

© 2006 Anton Capri