May 12, 2007


     Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?
     —William Carlos Williams

Dust balls collect in the corners,
     Motes float in the sun’s slant rays,
Crumbs litter the gritty counters,
      Dog hair sprouts from the back porch chaise.

Pungent clothes pile high in the hallway,
     Dishes stack nimbly in the sink,
Mateless shoes lie bereft on the stairway,
     Neglected garbage has begun to stink.

All over my house, work wants doing.
     Head-high grass claims my attention and care:
The dog needs walking, dinner wants cooking,
      Rooms demand straightening and fresh air.

And here I sit amid the clamor
     Delighting in perfectly useless things:
Whittling words, shifting syntax, sounding syllables,
     Listening to the silence sing.

—Angela Alaimo O’Donnell

Posted by dwaber at May 12, 2007 12:50 PM