by Joanna Gilman Hyde

The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:00pm

I have a crowded secret

in My Heart:

something I threw out

in My fire-burning

desire for ridding

The World of that

deemed garbage by Me

something as simple

as a moulded glass dish

with matching lid

— too small to be bothered with —

held momentarily

in My Frantic Hand

I let it go

into the 39th trash bag