(escapril, day 12: spring cleaning)

I like to make things.

Knitting or stitching or bending rough rings.

Stirring up batter or sifting out flour.

In any of these I’ll lose many an hour.

Cleaning, however, is a bit harder.

Staring into the great abyss of the larder,

I lose all my yearning for domestic bliss.

It seems at worst, soul-sucking, at best, hit or miss.

There’s empty bags here, and crumbs scattered there.

Some spilled orange soda, and- ew, is that hair?

A veritable hurricane of mess and of mice.

I shut the door and breathe deep: once and then twice.

Dealing with dishes shall make for a start-

Words from my mama that I now take to heart.

I scrub until my fingers can’t scrub anymore.

I wipe off the plates and then face the door.

Right then a buzz comes from my phone.

I pick it up and see I shan’t long be alone.

A friend is coming for cookies and tea.

I wipe off counters and edges, all she will see.

Now could be the time I get in a knot,

Succumb to each and every sour small thought,

But I count to ten and keep myself here.

And hey, I remind myself, at least the sink’s clear.