RECYCLING

When the environment deteriorates,

we do, too, so I compost coffee grounds

and recycle green glass. The cadaver goes

to a friend’s maggot farm where it is turned

into chicken feed. Where there is danger,

there also grows something to save us.

Bathers at the lake act upon their urges

and create an atmosphere of freedom. The thieving

financier becomes a priest with a shelter.

Me—I have no biological function and grow

like a cabbage without making divisions

of myself. Still, I have such a precise feeling

of the weeks recycling, of a stranger’s arrival,

and the tumult righting itself.