As littering poems go, The Flesh and Bone People is a reflection on fragmentation and the need for integration as individuals and communities.
The Flesh and Bone People – Littering Poems
On a sill at dawn, when a flock of flesh and bone people are bowing out still, a bird's sharp beak beckons and pecks a sesame seed the wind barrelled up from the burger joint one mile down the road. The wind is kind like that, bowling rubbish to places where birds can feast. The litterers feed them, too, ghosts anchoring in leftovers and harking back to flesh and bones, hunger-jerked. Once, the ghosts plenished the shell. Now, we tan our skin, locked out and rootless until the wick frays and the house comes tumbling. Jigsaw pieces strewn, only a gloved, slow hand can unpuzzle them now, sew, set, mend and blend our ghost with flesh and bone, traversing lollipops, taxes, beads, scaffolding, and chains until, toil and oil no longer spoil the soil, until the hour is ours.
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