Window Washing


Tomorrow I’ll be out of bed by six,
to grunt and cough and ready for the man
who cleans the glass because he knows all tricks
of squeegees and detergents. That’s my plan
for Saturday, too early to be fun,
but this is the disruption to end all –
I’ve weathered nine full months to have this done,
but now that we’re revolving into fall,
I’m ready to be cozy and alone.
I’m eager for long nights. An early storm
won’t bother me, and mud won’t make me moan;
I’ve flame and comforters to keep me warm.

Come, rid my window glass of soot and grime.
I’ll host and pay for labor, one last time.

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