Dragging The Past Out Into The Light

A scurry of clawing
as trash can lids crash –
like tin beetles
wobbling on their backs,
all is exposed –
Yesterday's garbage,
bound by twisty ties,
walled within dark plastic –
holds no sway for the hunger
of coon or opossum –
vampires of the night.

Feasting upon refuse in repose,
they spill onto dew-damped grass:
the cores of apples,
rinds of forgotten fruit,
a juice carton, half a bagel,
and section one, page twenty-one
of the Chicago Tribune
entitled: OBITUARIES.