maintenance
can you write a poem
about the things you do every day
without being mundane?
dishes and laundry,
smoothing sheets over last night’s dreams
sweeping bits of dust
into piles of promises?
i’ve worn a path into these hardwood floors
27 years of back and forth
around in circles
and i think of all the life
that has fallen through those cracks
unnoticed.
how many times have i wiped
the shine back into this wood stove
just so i could sit before it
and watch it gather dust?
i can build a fire in two minutes flat
but i’ve never had to put one out.
i’ve traded diapers for litter boxes
and mops for steamers.
this house knows all my habits.
it knows, too, to look away
at all the right moments.
we’ve lived together long enough
to recognize the shape
of each other’s
silence.
::
::
::
April 13th, 2012 at 8:49 am
you are good.
April 13th, 2012 at 8:54 am
this is extremely spot on….
thank god my house knows when to look away and has learned my moods and tends to keep the dust bunnies hidden, until it’s sure that i’m in the mood to handle those furry little irritating things 🙂
xo
April 13th, 2012 at 9:05 am
may i print this for my desk? i have been in my house for nearly 29 years…and, it goes on the market this month! i LOVE this poem…no surprise!
April 13th, 2012 at 1:08 pm
so good – i love the end – the shape of each other’s silence. such a nice combination of senses there
April 13th, 2012 at 1:50 pm
I actually forgot to breathe starting at ‘it knows, too, to look away’, stunning work!
April 14th, 2012 at 10:31 am
again, a second reading of this, a couple of days apart, and still, that path worn into hardwood floors haunts me.
house as best friend and secret keeper.
April 14th, 2012 at 1:01 pm
Wonderful. My house knows all my moods and habits too, and when to look away. Especially love the ending of this poem.