Scrubbed, wiped, mopped,
Bent, crouched, reaching places
That, ordinarily, I wouldn’t even think about
And at last, a sigh,
That a daughter of man wouldn’t find me repulsive
-everywhere spotlessly clean (including myself and the
toilet wall)
And then, daughter of man did not show up
Leaving me with cleanliness I hadn’t gotten used
The roaches that listened to my sad songs,
The sad lament of my heart, of longing-
All gone with the subtle whisper of your uncaring attitude,
Daughter of man
Now tell what to do with all this cleanliness…
Tell me, daughter of man
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