Like tattered flags
flying from a broken fort,
or faded pennants
on a forgotten ship,
the banners of the plastic age
surround us, windblown,
clinging to winter's trees,
now like bare masts
displaying the shredded images
of common household trademarks
in yellows, blues and whites
but mostly blues,
logo'd polymers beyond recycling,
torn, grimed, but lifting in the wind
filling, flying, waving
forever, for all I know.