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Posts Tagged ‘mess’

 

 

… one sector of the self can step in for another in trouble

            —Kay Ryan, “Why We Must Struggle”

 

 

Because the heart is a mess

I mop the floors. And shake

the rugs. And find homes

 

for all the knick knacks

and papers that clutter

the shelves. And when

 

the heart is still a mess,

I scour sinks. Then wipe

the mirrors. Hours go by.

 

The drawers are straightened.

Sheets and towels refolded.

Even the piano keys

 

are not sticky any more.

The filter in the fish tank

is scrubbed and changed.

 

But what does the heart care

for cleanliness? It walks

across the polished room

 

in its muddiest shoes

leaving gravel on the floors.

Shoves all the pillows off the couch

 

to make a cozier spot

for fussing, then spreads its troubles

across the counters

 

where they more easily

can be seen. Organizing the lot

is beyond me, but

 

I notice how,

between those muddled troubles,

the counters gleam.

 

 

 

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finding myself waist-deep

in a mud puddle,

unsure

if I’d rather

have you pull me out

or if it might not

be more fun

to pull you in

and reel in mud

together

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And Not Push Any of It Away

The way the morning sun
in the kitchen shows up all the fingerprints
on the cupboards
and casts shadows past
every crumb on the floor—

isn’t it like that,
a woman who once
begged for more light
only to see, as the light
grew, so many messes
that had gone unseen.
That is not how she’d
told herself it would be.

Perhaps this is
part of what she sees,
not only the mess,
but the one who thinks
she must do something.

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balanced on a twig—
two blue dragonflies and
all that space between them

*

the story, calloused
and gnarled, inside it
red leaping blood

*

picking up the moon
like a telephone to dial
your number, of course

*

contemplating
dessert for
the Armageddon

*

opening a can
of worms to find
rose petals

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