Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Haunts his dreams, 

most waking hours. 

Cost and capacity repeats like a piston in his head, 

each thrust affirms he holds the Waste Management Portfolio, 

can’t get rid, 

so many, still unanswered questions, 

why people must pursue an eight-day round of garbage, 

why dustmen won’t put the bins back on the architrave, 

after emptying, 

leave them like orphans on the pavement –  

they go missing. 

Why several decorate theirs 

in a fetching, floral pattern. 

No-one mentions the rogue dust cart… 

Nights we find him, King Canute at the municipal dump 

where landfill creeps like a rank tide, 

poking about with a long stick 

for a miracle to re-cycle.