In another life I am an ant, picking up crumbs and moving them from place to place.

I maintain entrances and exits. I excavate new chambers and tunnelways. I gather food and bring it back to the pantry. I bury the dead, tend to gardens, take out rubbish.

In another life I am a raven. I calculate time for cars to arrive and solve the puzzles necessary to unlock foodtreasure. I transport golfballs back to my nest.

In another place-time I am a slater, snouting feeler-legged, antennae twitching, making soil from vegetable with my alimentary tubes and tunneling.

In another body I am a mouse, nibbling nocturnal and fastidious, tidying back to the order that I know.

I am a plague-locust, swelling with overflood of food, seeking surplus and never satisfied.

I am an ibis, sway-necked and stately in the rot.

I am putting rubbish into bags. I am leaving the bags here for someone else to deal with. I am wondering who is worse: the ones who are incapable of understanding the echoes of their actions on other life; the ones who judge them; the ones who judge the items as rubbish; the ones who treat them as worthless when everything else is sacred, comes from and returns to perfection and has a use and purpose at every stage, if only it can be found…