I need to do my physical therapy exercises
because I’ve lost my ability to move fluidly,
but don’t because the floor needs vacuuming,
but don’t because vacuums are dangerous—
busted shins, pulled muscles, plus
the chance of elevated blood pressure
from cleaning—cleaning up after people
capable of cleaning up after themselves
who don’t because they think it’s my job
or maybe they’re just lazy.
I haven’t figured that one out yet.
Then there’s the issue of time and how long
it takes to clean one room improperly—
meaning not dusting because the dust
in my house is never ending—never ending meaning
always there— but just to be proper about cleaning
I should pick up food that’s out of place—out of place
meaning food belongs on a plate or in a mouth
not scattered in the chairs and on the floor beneath
and around my husband’s TV watching and eating place,
but now under mine which indicates I’m missing my mouth
more and more and then there’s barn and yard dirt
which belongs outside, but comes in with my spouse
and the hair down there not from the animals because they’re dead
instead, it’s the hair falling off my head which means I’m losing it,
not my mind, but I could be and chances are I wouldn’t know
because delusional thinking and denial are two ways
that help make my life more pleasing.
Too bad there’s no time left to do my PT.
Catherine Perkins
Lexington