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Yes, housework can be a chore
A day, a day rinsed free of night
everyone enjoys a clean and orderly home
a table wiped clear of crumbs and spills
the best way to do the maximum amount
of work, without becoming overwhelmed
floor swept, dustpan emptied into plastic
bags which are placed inside sealed metal cans
is to perform it in a systematic fashion
dishwasher emptied, opaque and stainless
blot the stain, wipe away any residue
whites now sorted, his socks, his shirts
old egg-yolk yellow under the arms
try these to ensure results
reward your efforts:
his underwear, the boxers faded and frayed
repeating their pattern of angular hearts
be sure to remove any hooks or weights
their scattered and miniature x's and o's
openings measured for admission or exit
don't overload the machine, and remember
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of mostly darks, mostly black and blues
fabric becomes much heavier when wet
while here and there a spring green
a tremulous yellow
protect from strong sunlight
and abrasive objects
a newborn pink, streak
of surprisingly deep red
warning: damages may not be covered
like fresh blood, a raw and unsutured cut
try a product that claims to hide
surface scratches
to be rinsed and wrung, dried and folded and piled
into the thing we call a long marriage
if the marks have darkened
use a sharp knife
these daily removals, these many attempts
to wipe clean the counter the table the slate
if the burn is deep use filler
smoothing it to match the surface
the windows now free of fingerprints and smears
as if there were no glass no barrier no space
work carefully to avoid
damaging the paint
in which to revisit your own faint reflection
this coating should last for years
Reading this poem snapped me back to the early years of motherhood - perhaps because I studied a similar book by Alma Chesnut Moore in trying to gain some skill in the art of keeping house. I wasn't alone in feeling confounded by domesticity - I was surrounded by creative, educated women who were suddenly home with children, laundry, surfaces to clean, furniture to fix, order to find in the daily waves of chaos that seems to follow new parents around. To do this and anything else required a mental version of ambidexterity that I didn't possess - one mind focused on the physical and the other on the metaphysical. I was always getting the two mixed up. This is what Jennifer O'Grady captures so perfectly here - the the waves of poetic thought lapping at the shore of the endless list of domestic to-dos and how-to-dos. This poem appears in Poetry Daily and was originally published in Southwest Review. If you are reading this without having read Moths, visit that page by clicking the link to find out more about Jennifer's work and read another terrific poem. (Reprinted with permission of the author)
Images ~ Baby in the basket is by Devinf (visit to see more incredibly cute photos of baby Rune and really amazing yarn work), I found it first on Taylor Flannery's blog. How To Clean Everything, one of the many editions by Alma Chesnut Moore, now available on Google Books. The French Laundry advertisement can be found here.