Non-Biodegradable

The party was a draft that never caught,

just two half-empty bottles on the sink.

I’m throwing out the things that I bought

for people who didn't stay for a drink.

I snapped the lid of the cooler just now,

a high-pitched screech like a bird in a trap.

It’s a cheap kind of plastic that doesn't know how

to do anything else but crumble and snap.

Now little white beads are stuck to my socks,

clinging like ticks to the wool and the heel.

They’re the wreckage of one of those hollow boxes

that never quite looks or sounds like it's real.

I’ll be finding these pieces for the rest of the year,

static-charged ghosts in the corner of the room.

It’s a mess that’s never going to disappear,

no matter how hard I push the broom.