I haven’t written a poem since November, so I figured I should attempt to break out of my writer’s block.  A while back I had asked my boyfriend to give me a topic and he had said, “write from the perspective of trash.”  Initially, I wanted to write something romantic and nostalgic, like from the perspective of a broken pearl bracelet or a torn photograph, but it just wasn’t speaking to me tonight as I sat down to type.  I thought I would end up with a comedic piece instead, but somehow, that wasn’t it either.  In any case, I’m happy with the result. =)

Teddy’s Story

Arms and legs spread out,
the sun kissing
my chocolate brown fur
on a lovely summer day
as she went to play,
letting me sunbathe
all alone, in the middle
of the driveway.

When I heard a sound,
vibrations on the ground,
massive tires before me,
roll over, paralyze my knees,
“Daddy, no, please!”
She screams.  My life
flashes
before me…

Many memories
of tea parties,
decked in a dress
embarrassed to be me.
She made me pretend
to be a girlie teddy.
Time and again,
we played school.
She talked to me
and her imaginary
buddy.
She loved me…

I felt her hold me,
her glistening tears fell
over my furry body.
“He’s dying,” she cried
as cotton beads
came out of me
and I felt deflated
and ripped and ugly.
“It’s too late,” Mom said,
“He’s too dirty.”

Little by little,
Mom pries me away,
away from my Susie May
with half my beads
still on the driveway
and I fall
down and down
into an abyss
of musky darkness.

I can hardly breathe.
I can hardly see
the trash around me:
soiled papers, rotten veggies,
banana peels, nut shells.
The stench consumes me,
the flies buzz around me,
I continue to bleed
cotton beads…

Dreaming
of my life to be
in a sea of trash,
worthless, neglected,
tire-marked,
broken, alone –
a smelly Teddy
in a landfill
of hopeless memories.

Then I hear a voice,
the sound of an angel.
She was blond, disheveled,
damaged, dirty, but still
a pretty Barbie.
She smiles and says,
“I’m glad I have company.”