This poem first appeared in print in the Spring 2018 issue of Evening Street Review. Order a copy now for 2018 delivery.
Swept Away
I could sweep the floor
at your suggestion, timed perfect
with undermeaning. I could take
the broom and delicately
move across the kitchen
floor, or
I might sweep that floor
in a way that overlooks the niceties
of an introduction, a first date.
Don’t think I won’t
rough up that baseboard, maybe
a small nick right beside the pantry,
where all would see
my passion.
Or we could each take
a broom, work from either end
with the efficiency of tired
practice. We would meet
in the middle. We would discuss
who did more, or finished more quickly.
Instead I might misunderstand, walk
down the stairs, yank the door
on the truck with more slam
than the situation calls for.
After backing into the road
I would leave the garage door open.
Copyright © 2018 Jeff Nesheim | All Rights Reserved
First appeared in Evening Street Review.