the discarded wander
layered in remnants
things we cast off
shrugged from our shoulders
like ragged sweaters
full of holes and torn elbows
like all things treasured
they arrived gift-wrapped
in the film of afterbirth
slipping into the world
through the same tunnel
souls cast into a shell
foreign, cold with longing
most were happy
they'd arrived
shared the intimacy
of family whole or fractured
today he is the only one
able to contact Major Tom
his visible hand holds
a cloaked transmitter
the blue napkin in his
nostril blocks our interference
she praises nicotine
too made up for daylight
her nails betray
the street beneath them
her sweet voice sings a
wish that her daughter,
that bitch, would die
they sit like filled trash bags
poised to go out
felled by chemicals
a hunger that holds
them in between here
and no where
how do they go missing?
all good intentions
spent on other beings
