Waste Away

waste-away

The bin men parade down our street

all purpose and speed.

Rolling before them a thunder of work.

Of bins and trays and discarded things

their noise punctuating this slow morning.

And every week the clock-work of waste,

of renewal through removal

by these early day storm troopers

advances and moves to another front.

Still fast and hot. Dull-eyed but

eager to finish an infinite job

and park their oozing lorries

out of sight

lest the war be lost.

And when they’ve gone the gimlet eyed residents

let in the clean and calm,

scuttling out to retrieve their empties

and return to an order

only they can comprehend

as they claim peace

in the recently returned

status quo.

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