The Bag

Plastic bag up in the tree.
Far beyond the reach of me.
Flapping loudly in the wind.
Ripped and torn without a mend.

Who were you in newer days,
Before your rotting branch malaise?
Maybe Walmart. Maybe Sam’s.
Maybe filled with litter sands.

Were you from a dollar store,
Or were you meant for something more?
Whatever it was you held inside,
Your ending’s most undignified. 

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