Christine Taylor

New Moon

Over on Williams Street, an old Victorian is purged of its contents: a baby’s blanket lightly stained and embroidered with the name Gianna Rose; a 1970’s style stereo, dust caked on the mesh web of the speakers; Chinese take-out cartons bound tightly in a plastic grocery bag; mismatched sets of lace lingerie; a brown teddy bear missing an arm. We fish through the guts looking for scrap metal to make a buck.

recycled
plastic as asphalt,
the road ahead