daddy's girl

Poem: Only Slight Hyperbole

A spiderweb covers the left bathroom lamp,
visible only in late afternoon,
the baseboards are dusty (my room is a wreck),
the toilet will need to be scrubbed very soon.
I cannot remember the last time we mopped,
or when we last washed all the windows (or one);
I vacuumed a week ago, but you can't tell
and the reason is lying there soaking up sun.
The paint in the kitchen is peeling like crazy,
the library's unusable--buried in books.
The garden's a mess and the yard's even worse,
and the neighbors have started to give funny looks,

but none of that matters--it doesn't, not really:
here's where I'm happy, dear. This is my home.


Wrote this 6 years ago--still accurate, although the pile of black fur that used to soak up sun is no longer there. Alas.
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

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