by the poet mom
I clean it and care for it because I must
But make no mistake it is my enemy.
The odor makes my nose wriggle in disgust.
Its maintenance requires advanced alchemy.
The oozing drips and yellow puddles
Fill my heart with dismay.
The state of it befuddles.
How could it look like this every day?
My roomies seem not to notice my frustration
As they continually manage to miss the mark.
For them there is no mitigation
It is my task alone on which to embark.
I purchase the latest in cleaning absurdities
And diligently perform my recalcitrant duties.
However, I alone cannot sustain the neatness I desire.
So, it is a maid I will very soon hire.