The bag she lugs of bottles
and cans dug from ditches
and tugged from leaf matter
dog-ends and filth pushed
against the curb by fast traffic
is bigger than half her body
must be thick plastic
somehow it doesn’t break
It is see-through and some
bottles are capped and half-full
of juice or piss and every muscle
in her scrawny arms
works to lift the bag at least
ankle-high if it should catch
a twig in a moment’s drag
like a knife to the gut
the whole day will spill out
Shane Murphy left an MFA program early to work at a small press. He now teaches Spanish and writes music and poetry. He lives in Poughkeepsie, NY, with his wife and two sons.