Throw it Away
the alley is stretched out,
resting its head up against my back gate,
with its left hand dipping toward my garbage cans.
down the way of its spindly shanks,
past its pockets, spilling old cash register receipts
and fake credit cards useful for cleaning the dogshit out of
the grooves of shoes, or, bent, loosening a phillips head
and past that knobby knee poking through
into a back yard with no fence
to where it is just about to touch the sidewalk
on the east side of North Fourteenth Street,
is sticking up white as a dirty sock,
wiggling in the wind like a knot-eared trash bag.
For this week’s prompt, take the title of a song (whether you enjoy the song or not is optional) and make that the title of your poem; then, write the poem.