A year ago I bought a ceiling fan
as part of the remodel. Ever since
I’ve loved it, but five days ago a man
who’s dear to me exploded. I’ve had hints
he’s overstressed, but that was evidence
of someone reeling far out of control.
The shit will need more washing than a rinse.
The cry for help is obvious and whole:
I have to clean my walls; he needs to cleanse his soul.