I was thinking about writing a poem as I was depositing my trash bag into the bin today, Another hour or so at Frank’s Flats, and I was left feeling that I had entered into the personal narrative of a community…browsing deep into the sock drawers of strangers.
Driving home, I heard Derek Beaulieu, Calgary’s 2014 Poet Laureate, reading his poem, Please, No More Poetry on 93.7
For a moment, I second-guessed myself and thought it would be a waste of time to write. But, only for a moment. And then I decided, instead of Netflix, I would go ahead and write a poem.
The Nuisance Grounds
My feet sweat inside my
and the sun shines,
lighting up other people’s waste.
Those other people
leave no more secrets.
Five more granola packages today
and three plastic pudding containers.
I didn’t find the spoons.
Many pages of coloured paper announce the deals
for this week and weeks before.
A bag of human defecation wrapped and tied
neatly, left under a tree.
McCafe cup, broken plastic bits.
Coloured straws, other-worldly in
Red hawk calling from above.
Ducks, skittish, paddling out from shore.
This is other people’s nuisance. Not yours.
Bags with yellow liquid swishing at their bottoms.
Bags with brilliant logos of Wal-Mart,
A long length of bubble wrap
dazzled dots in the light,
wraps around and hugs a
Styrofoam falls apart
at my pinch, a myriad of white spheres
into the grass.
I’ll have to be more gentle next time.
It’s at this point, I think about writing
I am at odds
because there is no one to blame.
This is not yours.