*Trailer Trash

This found poem for 4/4 is dedicated to the unfortunate few who live in the “trailer park” dug into the side of the hill drivers pass when traveling from NYM to DL

Trailer Trash

Imaginea trailer
a big hole
in the ceiling
floor starting to crumble
under my feet

lean to one side

the faint odor of death
hung around
the bathroom
no doubt
a squirrel
or a rat
had died
in the walls

I told myself
the flesh was
the smell
would go away
but it
never did
vermin-ghost smell

I loved
that trailer

first and
home I
ever owned.

Source:  http://www.stirjournal.com/2016/04/01/i-know-why-poor-whites-chant-trump-trump-trump/ (journalist Joanna Ivan).

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