Anthropomorphic Junkyard Frigidaires, washers, dryers & sinks lay side by side, on top, or beneath water heaters, ovens, bar-b-cue pits & microwaves—some of them waste away, relenting a lifetime without celebrity or a past beyond energy efficiency—utility taken for granted unless natural gas lines break, electric coals burn out, or freon pipes leak; gloved hands load imperfect devices in truck beds, trailers & trunks— toss them sans ceremony: brusquely, rudely, callously smashed by buckets, crushed under backhoe wheels, picked up and dropped in heaps that creak as sunlight heats & expands metal wail as wind passes through hanging glass doors sheltering rats day & night, providing refuge from feral dogs & cats always on the chase untamed creatures appreciative of blazing sky shade, predatory animal protection, a rain & snow sanctuary before transfer stations load rubble & dispose it in empty asbestos mines at the earth’s core.
About the Author: A Washington-based author, educator, and Pushcart nominee for poetry, Warner’s works have appeared in many international literary magazines, journals, and anthologies such as Street Lit., The Ekphrastic Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Fib Review, and Sparks of Calliope. Warner also has written seven volumes of poetry, including Without Wheels, ShadowCat, Memento Mori: A Chapbook Redux, Edges, Rags & Feathers, Serpent’s Tooth, and Flytraps (2021)—as well as. Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories. Currently, he writes, hosts virtual poetry readings, and enjoys retirement.
Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Desert Junk Art” (2021)
As It Ought To Be 