Where the seagulls and rats can't reach

They will leave my sins
In moldy boxes
On my front porch
For months to come
I will find them sitting there
When I get home
Drooping cardboard
Corrugation exposed
I will salvage what I can
Put the rest on the curb
Let someone take them away
Crush them
Bury them deep
Where the seagulls and rats
Can't reach

Perhaps in years to come
It will become a golf course
The place where all my wrongdoing
Has gone to rot
The one hole on which
Nobody can ever make par
The grass yellowed and dry