Upon the shelves are juxtaposed
Old games with books and videos,
And vinyl albums next to those
Composed on compact discs.
More films are stored on DVD’s
And on the floor are shells for these
Where children’s fingers lazily
Have left them without risk.
And also crunching underfoot
Are scraps of skin and nails long cut
Amidst tin cans and smoker’s butts
Exhausted before dawn,
Whose elevated light reveals
The aggregate that has congealed
Around a sleeper’s cracking heels
About to be withdrawn,
As daybreak brings a time to search
For golden things to be besmirched,
Or stolen from the nearest church,
To keep his venerated,
By all the magpies that amass
Within his urban hourglass,
And turn into an underclass
That can’t be excavated.
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