There needs to be
A universal
Dumpster

A vast, unfillable mouth
Swallowing
The sediment
Of our days,
Of our existence

The gray in the hours
The grease stain on a collar
Of a morning that started
Crisp and pressed –
A promise of perfection

So the illusions we
Neatly fold
And the hope we file away
In alphabetized folders
For easy access on
Dreary afternoons

Can ignite the
Evening sky
And renew the face
Of our Earth