REFLECTIONS ON THE TOWN DUMP
This pyramid of metal arms and legs
Recalls a stack of antlers
In Jackson Hole, Wyoming:
That shock of recognition sparked
By castoff appendages,
That disturbance of tourists
Decanted into catacombs
Where skulls and bones
Have clattered into silence,
Duckpins struck by bowling balls.
This tangle of lawn chairs
Is one more moraine dropped
By glaciers of purchase power
Onto overstuffed landfills.
Beyond is a small mountain
Of tires, a ridge of refrigerators,
Stoves, washers and dryers.
Workers sort bottles by colors
And stuff trailer trucks full
Of papers. Oils and toxic
Chemicals are collected
For hopefully safe disposal,
Leaving plastics to be buried
By bulldozers for future
Archaeologists to ponder.
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