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Household Chore
by Jane E PearceThe vacuum whirs
and sucks up old dust,
smiles, songs played
by a ragtime band,
racoon coats, and love
long primed and painted
over with new passion.
Everything clean,
and fresh , sparkling
with diamonds and turquoise.
No hint of the refuse
now in that final dumpster,
but sometimes in the shadows,
I can hear you breathe again.
11/17/2004 Posted on 11/17/2004
Copyright © 2025 Jane E Pearce
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Maureen Glaude on 11/17/04 at 05:45 PM I found this on a break from fighting with two hand vacuums that refuse to work properly, so pardon my envy! I think my Shark just died.
Great poem, though. |
| Posted by Christel Crews on 11/18/04 at 03:56 AM i just finished cleaning my apartment from top to bottom and as i cleaned, i found a book that i friend had left on a visit and the memories of that evening rushed back :) |
| Posted by JD Clay on 11/22/04 at 01:32 AM You have a filthy mind, kiddo, hehe! I wonder where all that dirt comes from. With the results of springtime cleaning nowhere to be found, maybe I'll just turn my livingroom in to a Zen Garden and rake the dust all in one direction, yeah, that'll fix it.
Good stuff, Jane...pe4ce |
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