legs in the trash

I found a leg today

In the truck where I often
Stand and, into which, bag after bag,
I throw garbage, I waste,
People’s unmentionables, forgettables,
Those lost pieces, given up to the fire,
to forever be lost,
And in the heap today, a leg
Two legs, someones entire bottom half,
Prosthetics, carriers, holders up of a body,
A person, soul carried by thighs, calves, mechanical
Feet, they were all there, thrown, tossed,
Chucked now into my truck, to dump -
To dispose, to waste and burn, I wonder
Where have these legs walked?
Who have they carried? Where?
And why, now, should I find them, here, where legs don’t belong?
No, legs are to stand, to push the earth
back down, to fight slow gravity, every
step an impress upon the earth, left
Right, left, through, across, but
Now retired, dead, dismembered, totally
Detached - here with the waste, I find legs
With yesterday’s napkins,
Coffee grounds, and this morning’s egg shells, simply
Thrown, utterly destroyed, left behind, somewhere
A person sits or squats (I can’t say which)
with nowhere to go,
Nothing to wish to remember,
No way to get home, no way forward,
And no way back, nowhere,
No way, left only with nubs, erasers at the end
Of my pencils,
Wiping away everything I’ve ever done