1703: Recycling

I am walking backwards [untrue]
after hauling recyclable bags of
Reduced Now [Oh – how we live]
up to my hill-high home erected
above floods [but still fearful of]
I cried on pain’s prompt outside
Cinque Ports [my affable orders
placed there for beer & friends]
because my payload of shopped
stuff [to bake & to cook] clipped
me – homemade bread obligates
carrying pounds of [a finer] flour
When my cold loaf is divided by
my [prudent] knife it re-balances
me – my crust of too deliberative
junk – cutting off hungry concern

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *