SPRING CLEANING: SHORT POEM

By: Hannah Flores
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​As I sweep the floors of this house
This body

You sweep things under the rugs
Leaving the pages of our stories to fade into dust
Turning our skins into doormats

You let all the houseplants wilt
Depriving this house of the extra oxygen that it needs
You've cleaned out the bookshelves and the pantry
Covered all of the furniture
Because you didn't want me to know how to know
How to cook
How to live and not just survive
You did not want me to have heirlooms

You emptied this house
So it wouldn't feel like a home
My home

So it wouldn't feel inviting anymore
Cleansing this house
To the point where it seems
That it was always vacant