Trash
The dancing rainbows
of plastic bottles in the street
had a way of catching her eye.
She filled her pockets with broken
pieces of colored something-or-other,
and she knew without question
that it was beautiful.
So she tied them, one by one, to a piece of yarn.
Jewels for the necklace
that she left on her mother’s vanity,
on top of the white wooden jewelry box;
its shiny surface reflecting in the mirror,
and that she woke up
to find poking out
from under two kleenex
and a rag of cat throw-up
in the trash.