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On Cleaning
With one eye it is just
cramped. Both show the decor
flipped like a negative, the image
on my retina. I'll move
aside the boxes, the papers
in random order, from random
companies. This is a system
I never understood.
Swipe legs with a dishcloth
or an arm
whatever you can find
until it glistens
with the unmistakable dust
of the dead.
I layer everything, tuck it away
and wash the walls with ammonia
until it's clear they are old.
Only when I'm finished,
only when the room reveals
it will never sparkle
do I wonder if you kept
dirt dust boxes
to believe he hadn't gone
to believe his ashes stayed.
Cheryl Chambers
Email: Cheryl Chambers
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