There is something about cleaning
that makes way for other things
like the piles of washing, drained of yesterday's
blood, thought and smoke filling the hems
a dusted table is better than a clogged one,
less viruses, more room for breathing
for a surface to emerge from what
was there and what is left
the things I do are like cleaning
take out, scratch, rewrite
it is a cycle of production of what was
into what is to become, like
the leaves pertaining to the end of
summer, it is easier to clean at times
easier to destroy and rise
than pretend we know where to start again.
No comments:
Post a Comment