POETRY
we’re not going to compost By Leila Skinner
Compost makes me angry. I don’t get mad at the full dishwasher No hard feelings to the dirty bathtub. But yesterday, I thrust my hand into the Bin full of banana peels and coffee grounds And pulled out a sun-kissed, juicy yellow pepper. Rinsed it off, sliced it up, and had the Thin, golden bangles for lunch. As the spice warmed my lips, I thought, Each day we’re moving closer to death. I’m not worried about our death But the death of the world around us. It’s not going to be us slowly composting, There will be no new life. It’s going to be our forests on fire. Our oceans rising up, swallowing us whole. Toxic rain falling from the sky, poisoning our rivers, Droughts scalding us dry. But I don’t get angry at the fires or the oceans. I just get angry at the compost.
Look up “Tufts Eco Map” for resources on where to compost around Tufts campus. DESIGN BY TARA STECKLER, ART BY AIDAN CHANG
FEBRUARY 28, 2022 TUFTS OBSERVER 9
