Piece by piece. Shatter,
creak, crisp air, winter
breeze, bloody cheeks, battered
hands. Wind swept hair, porcelain
filled with sky droplet, breathe
in clean. Sweep
swish, sweep right,
left, day old apple peels, fallen
leaves crumpled. All in one. Separate. Colors
bleed together, remnants
of past days. Fuzzy now.
Days kidnap days. Minutes
kidnap minutes, spotless
floors. Pile by pile, grime and dust muck.
Muck is bare as a tree
in October’s breeze, stuck in the yesterdays
of August heat, sparkly as December’s first
snow. Beauty,
an epic nightmare full of unicorn monsters—
picturesque, shiny. Their name is danger. You call it
glamor. Pine-sol
linoleum. Minute
by minute sweat. Smile
piece by piece. Right
is muck, sweep.
Sweep, muck
to the left. Turn
away. The window’s open. Leaves
intrude Pine-sol’s breeze.
Rewind.