delicate porcelain dolls in glass cabinets?
or maybe National Geographic
from the 1980’s?
or pickle jars and plastic containers
because you never know when you could use
a tomato-stained sour cream tub?
you keep them with your grocery bag
of deflated grocery bags
next thing you know
you’re keeping foods scraps for compost
that never make it to the garden
and your dryer lint seems useful somehow
until hillsides of aluminum cans
and water bottles threaten avalanche
over valleys carved out
by kicking garbage forward
the bathroom grows stalagmites
amongst spelunking turds
muffled movement in the kitchen
indicates infestations playing out
another sequel to the Secret of Nimh
it will take snow shovels to excavate
the strata of detritus
surely any treasure will be lost
all tossed out with the bathwater babies
and backfill
if you were Rumpelstiltskin
you would be spinning and filling
rooms with gold
but you can be buried in that too
Alicia Lee
Alicia Lee is a Wisconsin-based poet and certified sommelier. She studied both wine and creative writing while attending college in Washington State. Her work is featured or forthcoming in Slipstream, One Art, Eunoia Review, 4th St, and Slightly West.