Black bags triple tied
a mountainside of mistakes
stretch-marked sides
puddles of toxic probity
poked free from last night’s leaks
rot smell lingers for weeks
someone’s cruel idea
of discreet.
Bulging black binders
unread reminders
redacted wise words
nip-and-tucked timelines
neutered historical paradigms
crusty collectors bid on
air-tight candid compartments
of white-out.
Lift the trashcan lid
hid on the underside
armpit odor resin
trash truth–
all the things you couldn’t commit to
digesting daily, a self-portrait,
the hairy fridge goblin
of veracity.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Eeew….smelly…
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So much here as we move house. This poem is the result of the throw away regrets.
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You write of it well. Amazing what our lives boil down to when we clear out.
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I’m a big recycler but the junk of our lives, it has to be able to be further improved, I think.
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Always room for improvement, I agree.
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Vomit inducing veracity!
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Realized as we move house, it’s all there. Just open the can for more candid, putrid truth.
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🙈
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so much to unpack here: esp ‘toxic probity’: a stunning, oxymoronic phrase —
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Thanks, John. Been packing here and planning our next move. The trash tortures me; we are trying our best to donate and give away most things.
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This is a great poem. I especially love the first stanza. The images really ballooned to life in my head.
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Thank you; inspired by my own purging for our upcoming move. Seems that our trash does speak volumes.
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💚🤢🗑
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Brilliantly written my friend 👍🖤
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Thank you. Tried making it nice and compact. 😊
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You did a great job! 👍🖤
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Very vivid conjuring of your trash – my nose wrinkled as I read it. Brilliant. 👍😊
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