Cleaning
We washed our hands again, submerged in the basin then wrung like Lady Mac. We scrubbed and scrubbed the stubborn stains, Irksome fingernail debris discarded. Life’s bits and grits now murky clean waters. Cluttered corners too were cleared. The stacks and stashes stowed we flung in flurried toss. Muscled arms heaved oomph and sway to out the grey decay; send it arching earthwards like London Bridges falling;
a sky-smear smudged calligraphy of careless haste sent tumbling - to ground we’ve covered in concrete bandaids, binding the bleeding earth in blocky, choppy stocks - children let loose with the markers.
But
the baby, still slipped sweet, serene skyward in our hurry, our scurry. Quick catch before the crash. Hold him heartwards, close and kind dear bathwater bundle. A portent of the loss we’d toss like tea leaves unconsidered; cast on uprooted whims t’wards a dying tomorrow whose mirrors smother. There are secrets in the grey water to mother. Swirl, twirl them fresh as new dawn’s unsung songs. Become heartfelt as a rose smelled. Seen, wrapped, warmed in open arms gathered for a future that names life sacred again.
