There is laundry to be done
in these newly-vacuumed rooms.
Tomorrow the floor will be dirty,
but the clothes will be clean.
I won’t sweep again ’til next week.
No intercessor will slow the dirt,
nor speed up my schedule.
My bed is barely made as well
covers roughly tossed toward
the head of the thing, hastily
No one will ever see today’s bed.
I have satisfied my cleanliness.
There is no intercessor between
hospital corners and what I do.
I have spent the day humbly:
Routine things that add up to
a full life (before matrimony).
I intend to live a bright line
’til someone notices the gaps
and I theirs; and walking with,
We, each other’s intercessor.
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