At The End of The World We Fell in Love with Silhouettes

i keep cross-threading the light bulbs
while standing on piles of dirty laundry
rubbing my knuckles raw against the spackles

the smell of my memory is in these walls
(when i punched into pink fiberglass i saw my father’s smile)

the wallpaper is yellowed with our stares

the silverware is tinted with newsprint

clean isn’t clean ............it’s dissolution

lye eats away the layers of dirt and skin

heat activates the bleach
i burn my hands piling in the whites
chlorine steams up the basement window

make sure you store the glasses upside down in the cabinet
and hand wash the wineglasses so the soap doesn’t stain

drink this in remembrance of me

i made you a sweater from the lint in the trap
it was the shade of moon craters

i have been trying and trying and trying to clean out the attic

if i don’t get it done before the roof blows off will you forgive me the
many times your name has been scratched off and rewritten on the walls?

anything will do

i did

Will be done

i wrote my name under the welcome mat with the spare key

as it is in Heaven

i’ll leave the tea but take the kettle
i’ll leave the salt but take the pepper

don’t forget to look out the window on clear
mornings and count the seagulls flying inland