Kick the Bucket Like a hollowed-out pumpkin an empty orange bucket sat on my back-porch stoop, job completed, five-gallon contents exhausted, container just a lonely remnant inviting children to flick it over, palm the pleated bottom like a tabla or pound corners with garden stakes as if playing a floor tom-tom; the pail’s white plastic handle arced like an anemic tambourine erect, bending indifferently once flipped horizonal. Oh, days came & went, tasks evolved, trash stuffed space where machines filled paint cans, shook pigment, stamped a slogan that pealed off the vessel’s exterior; creative uses expanded, cobwebs cluttered the uncovered lid before kicked sideways so Scott could practice golf putts till winter snowdrifts buried its Halloween semblance welcomed springtime renewal as rodents huddled, built nests & guarded offspring oblivious of their Home Depot connection.
About the Author: A Washington-based author, educator, and Pushcart nominee for poetry, Sterling 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, Flytraps, and Cracks of Light: Pandemic Poetry & Fiction (2022)—as well as. Masques:Flash Fiction & Short Stories. Currently, he writes, turns wood, and hosts virtual poetry readings.
Image Credit: Russell Lee “Old gold ore bucket at abandoned mine. Pinos Altos, New Mexico” (1940) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress