the magic of housekeeping
lies in the art
of seeing the invisible
the ethereal cobwebs
nobody would blame you
for overlooking
the thin layer of grease
collecting its own dust
on the oven hood
the box of projects
sitting patiently on the floor
waiting to be remembered
the craft supplies
you’re really just about to use again
after two weeks idle
all those poems
half-written on scraps of memory,
waiting for –
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