Clean

I enjoy how the sweet smell of clorox wipes cuts the bitter of my pigsty
How paper towels and breeze-blue windex swathe my windows in faux-stained glass 
Nitriled gloves hug my hands and make a sturdy snap as they glissade past my wrists
Brooms symphonize sweeping between the tile and the wooden slats
Swish swish
Swish swoosh
I like a faint air of lemon toilet bowl cleaner to be resting at the back of my throat
Scenting that place where breath gets caught like a summer wedding reception
I like to moisturize with grout cleaner and let my heart line and my lifeline be scrubbed away
Left with a blank palate I can chisel with a hardy toothbrush
I airbrush my freckles with wood polish and powder my face with baking soda
And then even if my heart isn't
At least I am clean