Cast-offs

Poignancy of the discarded. The armless doll that stares from the trash heap in spring, the sagging sofa with the cat-scratched arms, the love-stained mattress in the rain. Inside-out umbrellas, …

Illustration by Alex Westgate

Poignancy of the discarded.
The armless doll that stares
from the trash heap in spring,
the sagging sofa with the cat-scratched arms,
the love-stained mattress in the rain.
Inside-out umbrellas, broken-ribbed,
flapping forlornly in puddles,
and jack-o’-lanterns after Halloween,
askew on compost piles.

Poignancy even of the intact, discarded:
here, today, curbside by the corner post
(among junked chairs and rust-stained mops)
a perfectly good birdcage
with all the fittings: porcelain cups
for seed and water,
ladders, mirrors—all the bells
and whistles—everything
but the bird.

This appeared in the November 2013 issue.

Robyn Sarah
Robyn Sarah will publish a new collection, My Shoes Are Killing Me, in April.

Join our community

Still reading? Show your support.Tote bag

The Walrus features award-winning, independent, fact-checked journalism and online events at thewalrus.ca. Our content is available to all, but as a registered charity, we can’t do this work without contributions from readers like you.

For only $5 per month, you can support the work of The Walrus online. All supporters will receive a complimentary tote bag, gain access to exclusive updates, and join the community that powers the work we do.

Be part of The Walrus.
Monthly donations receive a charitable tax receipt.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.