Sữa: milk. (Watch the dip of your tongue–Sửa: to fix.) Curdle rinsed. Empty plastic gallons windchimed against your collected hollow aluminum. Cans creased sharp. Sliced your and mother’s fingerprints. Stung to grip the bag.  Big enough to float.  Gravity-less smile on cartoon Earth. Revolving wheels crush and haybale. Overalled, the attendant opened our bag to sort and toss. Five cents. Ten cents. Not in California, not … Continue reading “Speak, Plastic,” a Poem by Jade Hidle