Autumn Cleanout

 

 

She can hear the call

Of inner voices

Succumbs to the tempting tales they whisper

She cuts

Away

Deadwood

Debris

Flotsam jetsam jettisoned

Cast out into space

 

Then

 

She vacuums in each corner

Around the cranial furniture

Under the heavily hirsute carpets

Splattered with greying brain matter

 

An accident

A brainstorm

Ideas got out of hand

 

She hums to the tune of voices scolding

“You’re doing it all wrong!

You’ve missed a bit, just look!

You’ll make no man a wife

If you can’t clean and cook!!”

 

So she cooks

The books

In her arithmetical mind

Stretches out finances

To cover all her costs
Stamps on all the voices

Stores them in a soundproof box

 

Not needed

For now

Or ever

 

Copyright March 2013

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