our detritus is discarded in heaped
bundles on unborn verges of lawn
strewn across an aged and tender land
treeless and reddening in the desert sand.
waves build banks across vast stretches
of seething nothingness filled with waste
time in the sun numbs, we have dumped
our thoughtlessness in barren, arid land.
yet the desert adjusts its swollen face
sores, heaving and rolling over landfill
to cover man-made mounds and little hills
with gentle, infinitely returning specks of grace.
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