The Orange Bin
May 12, 2010
The Orange Bin
Somewhere in a hospital
there is an orange bin
labeled “BIOHAZZARD.”
It is roughtly
the size of a coffin,
but it has no embellisments,
and there are no hints
as to its contents, save
the way doctors and nurses
avoid it at all costs.
The plastic chest only
accepts deposits, and has
never, once, been emptied.
Two hours past midnight,
daily, a man in scrubs
and rubber gloves
brings a sealed bag that
he drops into the orange bin.
The custodian knows the secret;
he knows that the air
tight chest contains
millions of unused nerve
endings, endless unexperienced
pleasure – tiny tips,
the byproducts of
circumcision.
