The Separation of Trash by Jane Rosenberg LaForge
The wet from the dry,
canned from the fresh,
meat from the cheese
because the baby should
never be cooked in its
mother’s milk.
Half-eaten containers
of lemon yogurt That my sister
and I gave up on after
a few bites because of
the accumulated bitterness.
We stashed them at the back
of the fridge for our mother
to disparage; such was
the fate of her desserts,
her lone indulgence.
Cartons of surplus from
the gristle and fat like
liquefying marble;
the butcher’s rough
wrapping from the newsprint
perused as if a sacred document;
unless we children got to it
first and defiled it with
our palms and scissors,
for paper dolls and pirate hats:
the young will throw away
anything, and keep everything
but it was the exposure that
was anathema, the refuse
of a wholesome fortress
build against time and revelatory
politics. The facts from
reality, or was it just the context:
Capless tubes of artificially
sweetened toothpaste mangled
by savages; you would have
sworn they were disembodied
of their hygienic shape
and purpose. Bottles of mint
antacid the patriarch downed
to douse the flames in his
chest and stomach; the plastic
inhaler dispensing snake
oil with adrenaline for lung
tissue that was poorly coordinated.
Boxes of baking soda poured
into scalding baths, the only
cure for rashes and welts
that emerged as a plague
My parents blamed each other
for every outbreak; for their
ornery children running wild,
callused, and barefooted
against the pavement, picking
up diseases of the lips and
skin, because the vaccines
didn’t take: The shame,
the shame in vectors
and agreeing to experimental
pediatrics.
The attempts at suicide
in the kitchen, abortions botched
in filthy clinics,
the outcome of the mayor’s
race when one of the candidates
said no one should have to
separate their own garbage;
pollution was a right they
had earned through wars
with debilitated nations.
They argued over that one
long past the divorce
and into the world to come, and it is
coming now, though with five years’
Worth of differences, enough
time to serve a term
without being a lame duck,
because there’s always
another chance
at re-election.
Jane Rosenberg LaForge has published four poetry chapbooks and two full-length collections. "Medusa's Daughter," her third collection, is forthcoming from Animal Heart Press in 2021. Her novel, "The Hawkman: A Fairy Tale of the Great War" (Amberjack Publishing), was a finalist in the Eric Hoffer Awards. Her next novel, "Sisterhood of the Infamous," is forthcoming from New Meridian Arts Literary Press in 2020.