Day 22: Tupelo Press 30/30 Poetry Project ( National Poetry Month)

Clean the Closet on Non-Working Day

“Is it so stupid typing barcode numbers?” 
I said when I vacuumed. 

I want to play Debussy 
in the city hall of an emerald city, 

but my 220 lb butt is filled with filtered 
office water; though I try not to snack 

on the peanuts at my desk. I toss 
torn black stockings. Fifteen

jeans are on a shelf and I cannot 
fit in them. I am extremely jealous 

of the sinking woman who drowned 
after she sang a love song. She was opera-fat but 

beautiful in the winter lake. Yet, 

I have not recognized her loneliness 
and vexation of not being a wife. 

“Still vacuuming?” you looked into the closet. 

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