catharsis

Saturday, I vacuum. / Because the amount of relief I feel / when I drag that plastic animal across the floor / is absurd, / and cleaning is powerful, / as if I’m walking on dawn-drawn water / with a flower, the size of a sculpture, / draped from my shoulder. / I remind the lamp, fan, fig plant, / curtains, bowl of mango, fed up chair, ambitious strawberry clock, / electrical cords, pretentious decorations, and arsenal of tissues, / that they must respect me, / and I, in turn, / possess them. / But the best part is after / I stop raging and dancing, / right now, actually, / when I fall onto my bed, / into the strange, beautiful vacuum / of my room, the silence like a new dimension / tearing open, and God, turning, / finally speaks.