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First Place

Poetry

2003

Meaghan Good

 

Shopping Cart's Lament

 

Frozen, silent, and entombed

In a Midwest urban wasteland

With ranges of great gritty snowbergs

Dotting miles of grease-spotted pavement

And from the speaker, rasping:

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

My muddy prison, laced with chemicals

In the water, oil-slick and diseased

My rusted, atrophied limbs

Interred in a fetid, festering grave

And from the speaker, rasping:

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

Up above, my friends still sit

Safe, in silent shining herds

Or pushed, protesting, across the asphalt

Encumbered with heavy plastic loads

And from the speaker, rasping:

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

But I am trapped, mired, martyred

Bogged down in slimy city slush

And here I sit, longing, yearning

For rescue that never comes—

For a blue-coated savior that never comes.

And from the speaker, rasping:

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

"Will the green sedan blocking the entrance please move."

Please...

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