From the horror
the rotting piles of dripping matter
molting
turning
becoming nothing
but a heap
more of the same
no longer a thing
now part of the stench
the blackened sludge
I pull myself
rescue
my sensibilities
ego
persona
before decay begins
its task
intercept
on behalf of the good
the light of the universe
that which was given
I pluck the discarded item
from the thrift store shelf
the rummage sale box
one step from
trash
permanent nothingness
to be recycled
made anew
washed
refreshed
hung in the sun
soaking up scents of spring
washing away
the memory
the edge of the landfill
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