Birch leaves flutter over
dearly departed PCs,
their CRT monitors,
empty and out of date.
Autumn light dances upon
once upon a time mattresses,
limp and soggy -
after recent rain.
Sulphur-crested scavengers
gossip amid corrugated iron
and broken chairs,
discarded for want of glue.
O, you tidy consumers of Kalorama!
How eagerly would the untouchables of Calcutta
pick over your waste.
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hard-rubbish/
