This house is a mess.

There are clothes scattered all over the floor. 

Things are not in their place.

Just look at that old unmade bed –

It sinks a little in the middle.

There is always a mess in this house.

I say that in observation more than complaint,

Just as one would say, “there is a rug” or “a drape”

Or “a ghost”

In this house.

There is a mess –

A monster thing - with a mind of it’s own.

Just look at that bed –

That old unmade bed.

I conceived 3 children in that bed.

Lost one though.

It’s got to be around here somewhere.

One small and dirty neglected child –

Living under a pile of laundry that is

Walking itself down the hallway to the washer –

Are you actually telling me

You can’t see it???

Just look at that bed

Look at it –

Neglected, abandoned,

Like the city buildings that can no longer speak

Of better days – or other days

They can only stand – windowless and empty

Offering mute testimony to the passage of time.

Time passes,

And this house is apparently

Not going to clean itself.

Damn!