The Idea of Housework

By Dorianne Laux
What good does it do anyone
to have a drawer full of clean knives,
the tines of tiny pitchforks
gleaming in plastic bins, your face
reflected eight times
over in the oval bowls of spoons?
What does it matter that the bathmat’s
scrubbed free of mold, the door mat
swept clear of leaves, the screen door
picked clean of bees' wings, wasps'
dumbstruck bodies, the thoraxes
of flies and moths, high corners
broomed of spider webs, flowered
sheets folded and sealed in drawers,
blankets shaken so sleep's duff and fuzz,
dead skin flakes, lost strands of hair
flicker down on the cut grass?
Who cares if breadcrumbs collect
on the countertop, if photographs
of the ones you love go gray with dust,
if milk jugs pile up, unreturned,
on the back porch near the old dog’s dish
encrusted with puppy chow?
Oh to rub the windows with vinegar,
the trees behind them revealing
their true colors. Oh the bleachy,
waxy, soapy perfume of spring.
Why should the things of this
world shine so? Tell me if you know.

-From Sweeping Beauty, Contemporary Women Poets Do Housework

I heard this poem on National Public Radio this morning during my drive to work. It interupted my thoughts about all of the housework I have to do this evening and tomorrow in preparation for the weekend. Kinda puts it all in perspective. I am still, however, vacuuming the bathroom floor, sweeping up kitty litter and changing the sheets. You can't stop me.