Why We Do Not Clean
Why don’t we hastily clean that last room, I hear my traitor side say.
You moron, I’ve already cleaned two inches of kitchen. I need to play.
Now, says the intense voice, unfriendly, and decisively hard.
Forgetting I am no cleaner or cook, now that I am a bard.
Ouch! Yells my right ankle. Gone is my right foot, thanks to arthritis.
What will you do next to me, voice? Issue me a bit of bursitis?
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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