Dirt

This morning, running the vacuum in the living room
The face of an old flame popped into my head
And for a while I thought about what we’d had and the plans we’d made
Which brought another love to mind, and that she’s gone now
And as I shifted furniture about, I found an old nylon chew bone
My last dog loved, more than me, I sometimes thought
Which made me think about how time is growing short
How I’m in the last quarter of the game, how the buzzer sounding
Seems to be coming up faster by the shortening seconds
Which made me smile as I thought about a poem I’d read
By a teacher who tells her students that poetry isn’t
All about love, love, love, and death, death, death – especially the death of pets
So wiping the sweat out of my eyes – not tears
Either of sad, sad, sadness, or joy, joy, joyfulness –
I returned my passionate attention to the cleaning job
And dug deep in a corner where dust bunnies thrive