Cleanliness
By Sophia Jacobs
I scrub floors and scour counters with my lips curled up.
Each surface warrants a fresh cloth, white and unmarred
Because the devil lies in filth that I must rub into nothing.
Residue clotted on windowpanes summons me like a siren.
I’m attracted not to beauty, but the dirt that I erase.
I scrub floors and scour counters with my lips curled up.
At dawn, I rise, soap in hand, tracing my prior wash lines,
Careful not to miss a spot, for a speck would keep me til dusk
Because the devil lies in filth that I must rub into nothing.
“Honey!” I call, running low on my toys that I yearn to fetch myself,
But for that, I’d need to disinfect the outside world.
I scrub floors and scour counters with my lips curled up.
Like cocaine, new Clorox wipes I can’t put down,
Rolling the germless cloth in between my fingers, inhaling the scent
Because the devil lies in filth that I must rub into nothing.
After a day of cleaning, my body reeks of used solvents,
So I draw a bath, pouring in generous amounts of bleach.
I scrub floors and scour counters with my lips curled up
Because the devil lies in filth that I must rub into nothing.
