Refuse Collectors. A poem by Jenni Wyn Hyatt (Y Dryw)

Remember
the refuse collectors,
hoisting, hauling, heaving,
constantly breathing
the stench of putrefaction,
backs breaking, feet aching,
hands chapped and raw,
hand sanitiser
their only protection
from infection,
low-skilled, low paid,
held in low esteem,
indispensable.