Spring Cleaning by Desma Sheerer

Spring Cleaning
by Desma Sheerer

The things I could write are buried 
in hampers of unfolded laundry, if 
I went through all the pant pockets I 
could dig them out with the change
and crumpled receipts, but they’d only
end up on top of the dryer collecting
lint and being shaken into unintended
arrangements, only to end up on the 
floor, kicked under the machine with 
dog hair and dirt.

Once I looked for them at the back of
the pantry, took out all the boxes and 
cans and jars, trashed everything that 
was expired which included some 
moldering old thoughts shoved in the 
corner behind a bag of chia seeds I 
never finished because the me that bought 
them was a different me; so I threw out 
seeds and words and ate a golden oreo 
in front of the open doors.
There are days I search for them under 
covers, in the dark slumbering warmth,
hoping to catch them fast asleep; I’ll 
throw a blanket over them, wrap them in 
a sheet to be unfolded when the sun is up 
and they can be inspected in the bright light.
I found a few in the bottom of my work bag, 
crunched under the corner of my laptop, 
stained with ink from a busted pen, half 
hanging out of my meeting notebook, once 
part of a group that’s now missing some 
members, all their combinations nonsense.
They’re slowly forgotten, their shine dulled 
with dust and rust, mildew and mold; 
I am too tired for spring cleaning.

Hear Desma Sheerer recite the poem on the Viewless Wings Poetry Podcast:

Sheerer is a writer and poet living with her husband and daughters in Upstate New York. Her short stories and poems have been published in DASH, 34th Parallel, Adanna, and The Woven Tale. She is an avid trail runner who finds peace and renewal in under the canopy of trees.