Joyce Lazarus

Spring Cleaning

I sweep cobwebs,  spiders, ghosts of moths, mites,
mole bones, petrified mouse droppings, stray feathers,
bird seed stored by last year's chipmunk in residence.

I sweep
cat hair, human hair in clumps and colors I don't recognize,
hair laced with dust, dander, slough.  I sweep

old clothes, lost shoes, found money, musty socks,
crumpled novels, unfinished poems, matchless earrings from
under beds, bureaus, desks.

I sweep dead leaves, dried flowers, faded photographs,
old lottery tickets, a fake diamond ring from under the rug.

I sweep deceptions, dreams, hopes, losses, longings and
old flame's cinders from underfoot.  I sweep boas and bangles,

beaded purses, flowing silks, streaming scarves,
lighter than life, from crowded closets.  I sweep

chairs, curtains, sheets, laundry into whirling motion.

I sweep paintings, computers, past tense, pluperfect notions,
platitudes and pretensions, sparing nothing.

But even as I sweep,
creating forest to glade,
pool from swamp,
new shoots push beneath my feet,
scions of the past.

Joyce Lazarus lives in  the Berkshires of Massachusetts. She has worked in theater for the past 25 years, including several seasons of summer stock. Her poetry has appeared in The Berkshire Review

Beauty for Ashes Poetry Review ©1996-2000

©A Creative Ash Publication 2000

Isaiah 61:1-3

Thank you for visitin