Trash

Another one of us
Of unknown origin,
Hardly used in English

Until the past couple
Centuries and maybe
Never before Shakespeare,

Modern in most senses,
Its verb form quite recent,
Some speculative roots

In Scandinavian
Words for junk or lumber,
But that’s only guesswork—

Trash. Trashed. Trashy. To Trash.
Americans heap it,
Country of trash talkers.

But there’s a little bit
Of melancholy there,
Winsome. Unlike great waste,

Trash never suggests vast,
Empty, lonely, severe,
Lost time, space. Trash is trash,

Always ugly, always
Worthless, often gaudy,
Never noble. Just trash.

It’s derogatory
In every known usage,
And paired with bigotry.

It’s not even playful,
Like kitsch. Maybe trashy
Taste has a little play

In it, but it’s hard work
To spin John Waters’ world
All the time. Ask Divine.

We’re a little in love
With the word, our orphan.
Quick. Cheap. Dumped. Simply trash.