dumpster cathedral 

i want to be more useless. i am so sick 
of waking up next to wrenches & screw drivers.
rust under my fingernails. 
i don't want to save anyone but
especially not myself. i want to be dumpster bound.
to find home among the rats 
& the mildew blooms. to get real rancid
& have someone pick me up like
a carcass & say, "this has to go."
i am a disciple of the trash. i see its holiness
even if no one else can. trash is divine 
not because it was made useless but because
it is still alive. there is a landfill 
up the road from me. the deer go to pray
over the debris. wrappers & broken televisions.
all the people waste. i pick through 
the garbage. the dumpsters come like
cathedrals, dumping new congregations into 
the mountain. we sift & find costume jewelry 
& even a knife without teeth. frolic
knowing none of it is gone. weeds grow
from handfuls of mashed potatoes 
& rotten oranges. dandelions are my favorites.
each a little rowdy sun. the light
whispering all through the night. the moon,
gone to do her nighttime skin care routine.
we hold mass. break phantom bread.
no one is there to salvage each other,
instead, we witness. make portraits
from mush & shoelaces & foam. spin like 
urgent planets. we laugh & get as dizzy 
as we can. we are not worthy 
& it is loud & glorious.