Post #1007569

Out of the dishes endlessly washing, Out of the parakeet’s throat, the cage-floor detritus, Out of the spring-cleaning midnight, Over the sterile counters and the veggie peels beyond, where the child leaving his bed unmade wander’d alone, bareheaded, barefoot, Down from the shower-tub combo, Up from the mystic play of Twister twining and twisting as if they were alive, Out from the patches of briers and blackberries, From the memories of the shrubs that prickled me, From your memories sad sister, from the fitful risings and fallings I heard, From under that red vacuum late-risen and swollen as if with dust... #HouseWorkASongOrPoem