Member Poem

Everyone got the paper pink napkin, pencil stub,
and empty can of Coors Lite (the Fletchers had enough
for all). Ryan found the shower curtain (English Ivy
crawling on a once-transparent sheet stained white
by hard water and soap scum). The plastic duck
was Linna’s triumph—it even squeaked.
We dove into dumpsters, seeking higher scores.

A Rubik’s cube, wooden clothespins, spark plugs.
The broken theremin was worth a hundred points.
Midnight fog turned into drizzle, but we kept playing.
Zach was gone for awhile before he returned with the Jaguar
hood ornament. He swore it was scavenged, not stolen,
but doubt chilled our lips. We turned the page of the list.

Matthew left and came back his sleepy younger sister
in order to cross off virgin. She coughed in the cold, shivering.
When Susan returned with an abused pit bull, we noticed
we all smelled like garbage, but we couldn’t stop.
Compelled to see the nightmare through, we kept believing
the next dumpster would hold the rusty sickle
and the severed head. Rain turned into sleet as we kept on.

Published in Crab Creek Review, included in Scavenger Hunt (chapbook)