Sunday, October 19, 2008


My sister, who never does housework,
lets it slip to my mom that she's been raking leaves
at her boyfriend's house.
My mother sees this as betrayal in the first degree.

Mom looks away coldly,
Struggling to control emotion,
Makes analogies
to try to inspire
an apology
a desire to clean the house.

She asks, "Why do you care more about his house than ours?"
and my Judas-sister makes lame excuses
about convenience and situation
but we daughters both know
the real reason why we prefer cleaning others' houses above our own.
We won't come out and say it to Mom,
There are limits to our betrayal.

Truth is, we gave up on our house long ago,
Run down,
Full of slobs,
There's no hope for any kind of progress.

Cleaning her boyfriend's house is building a structure out of Lego,
Cleaning ours is playing a game of Jenga.

I'm moving out in six months
and it feels like I'm graduating from high school again:
Can't bear another minute of the circumstance
but I sure will miss the people.

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