For two weeks I have watched
the mountains of snow
slowly eliminated by the
Atlantic in April, and eventually
revealing a crude patchwork
of garbage, lost items, and animal
carcass’ for me and the rest
of the neighborhood to jump-step around
anytime we wish to take the catwalk
to our beloved Esso and Timmy’s.

I make the trip 3 times a day
when I’m working from home.
Each day for the last couple weeks
I have had an added adventure
of watching the decay of snow,
then the slow perusal with my eyes
of all the treasures left behind:

condoms, ziplock baggies,
hair nets from Tim’s employees,
cigarette butts from everyone,
children’s toys, lighters, and
of course the pigeon and the rat
I took to calling Pestilence and
Vermin, as though they were characters
in some mystic saga I wasn’t writing.

Vermin’s tale had started to look
like a frayed mop’s dirtiest strand,
and he was forever frozen in a position
as though leaping in the air like a sheep,
except thin like paper now.

Pestilence started out the week
still retaining much of her shape,
and the crushed Purple abalone of her breast
was slowly transformed like
The Artist Formerly Known As Prince
Into a spectacle, something grotesque and carnival,
before finally succumbing to the
Dirt and grime of exposure.

Now, her intestines are zombie-grey and fiddle head-shaped.

Now, the Spring comes, to re-rapture life.