Possessions Poem by Ellen Rachlin

On the plaza, between four building markers
a man in bright uniform wields
the tools of his trade: broom and bag.
He leans in to gather tissues marked with tears,
containers unburdened of their freight,
loved but fallen stroller toys,
tickets slipped from shallow pockets,
and reams strewn from overflowing trash cans.
On his best days, the plaza gleams,
wiped clean of all origins of hindsight,
carried in the mind's eye but summoned
to barges and carried out to sea.