end to a means

the trash collectors are on strike,

my tap water turns to flames,

the madness

in this city

sounds like buzzsaw blades

people notice their garbage

only when it doesn’t disappear,

notice love when it goes,

and lonely when it stays

we notice the gutters

when they overflow,

the mailman

when he doesn’t show,

the weather when it isn’t nice,

the puppy on the sidewalk,

and the old dog

only when he finally dies

the plants that bloom with

the spider on the bedroom wall,

and the silence of that room

when the sirens out

there stop

but rarely

do we notice

the one that needs it

most