She Put It in the Recycling

She took the kitchen scissors, held her wrist

over the sink, and cut it off — the band,

white plastic, small black letters. Dismissed

before the motion finished. Her hand

set the scissors down. The bracelet went

into the recycling, not the trash.

I noticed. Didn't say. I don't know what it meant

except the word recycling has a cache

of optimism in it, a suggestion

of use, of return. The trash is just gone.

I took the bin out later. No question,

no comment. There it was. Lying on

a cardboard cereal box, white and small.

Nothing serious, she said. Nothing at all.