Vacuum in hand I attack
all
examples of humananimal habitation
as I suck up hair-skin-dirt
the detritus
of life. I think of you, my first teacher
of cleanliness of womanhood
my introduction
Some thirty-odd years ago as I took hold
of that mechanical symbol of womanhood
the vacuum.
I like(d) its noise, drowning out the world
I like(d) its perfunctory-back and forth-motion
its orderliness
As it makes self-created symmetrical lines.
I stand here vacuuming, thinking on you
missing you wishing for one lucid moment
where
I could pour out my heart to you
to say what was left unsaid
I
want you to know I love(d) you.
Only through your death I think I understand
you
and the complicated mother/daughter relationship
we had. You, my first teacher of cleanliness
of womanhood
I remember
Vacuum in hand, straight lines in the carpet,
Cleanliness and womanhood symbiotically joines
by a plug.
copyright 2011
