99poems/weighs

6:30 p.m.
The day weighs
on me.
All that did not
get done piled
up like the compost
bowl. Guilt
over the vegetables
gone straight from
store to heap, with
only a lay-over in
the frig. Remorse
at the waste,
yellowed lettuce,
soggy cucumbers
the better part
of a squash.
The radish greens
which I feel
I should send
to the Japanese.
I salvage what
I can for a salad,
heave a sigh
about the rest.
It always seems
I have one really
good day a week,
the rest of the time
I am wasting produce,
leaving the to-do
list undone.

5/4/99