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 –
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.
And this house is apparently
Not going to clean itself.