;

THE SUPERINTENDENT by Justin Bigos

The air as still as bathwater, no breeze
from Sheepshead, we carry clear plastic bags
of empty bottles and cans, blue plastic bags
of plastic bottles and milk jugs, we squeeze
flattened boxes into open boxes, then tie
it all in twine – but do we cover it
in tarp in case it rains? He says, Forget-
about-it
, just like on TV.

The air as still as bathwater, no breeze
from Sheepshead, we carry clear plastic bags
of empty bottles and cans, blue plastic bags
of plastic bottles and milk jugs, we squeeze
flattened boxes into open boxes, then tie
it all in twine – but do we cover it
in tarp in case it rains? He says, Forget-
about-it
, just like on TV. (I’d died
a little when he asked me for my help
after mumbling something about the blacks
and Jews, this man who once refused to attack
his neighbors in Croatia, then fled that hell
– I’ve heard it said – with three-thousand cash
inside his socks.) And next we do the trash.

 

Back to Table of Contents

Tags: , ,

About Justin Bigos

Justin Bigos
Justin Bigos is a doctoral candidate at the University of North Texas, where he serves as Interviews Editor for the American Literary Review. His poems have most recently appeared in New England Review, iO, Slice, The Collagist, and Ploughshares. With Kyle McCord, he co-directs the Kraken Reading Series, based in Denton, Texas.