By Maria Terrone

Poems heavy with rejection
	sink into a trashbin
	clearly marked for recycling —
my discarded lines no longer
	litter in a landfill,
	sludge on the ocean floor.
but serving, at last, a useful purpose.

Here’s thought for food:
I grind them out,
they grind them up
into takeout cups
instant boxlunch
throwaway trays for thruway snackers.

Drink in my mangled words,
	an Acropolis cup of Aegean blue,
eat from my cast-off prosody!
Scraps to snacks to scraps again,
I offer America my own moveable feast.
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About Maria Terrone

Maria Terrone is the author of the poetry collections Eye to Eye (Bordighera Press, 2014); A Secret Room in Fall (McGovern Prize, Ashland Poetry Press) and The Bodies We Were Loaned (The Word Works), as well as a chapbook American Gothic, Take 2 (Finishing Line Press). Her work, which has been published in French and Farsi and nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize, has appeared in magazines including Poetry, Ploughshares, Hudson Review, and Poetry International and in more than 20 anthologies.  She was one of 10 Queens-based authors commissioned by the Guggenheim Museum to write an essay for its performance project, “stillspotting  nyc.”

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