She cleans.
Cobwebby grievances
wizened words
fusty dustbunnies of omission
ambushed
in airless corners
of family memory.
Stains and grime
a generation old
clothespinned
on crisscrossed lines
exposed in stale sun
to narrowed eyes.
Dirt.
Familiar friend.
Ally.
Excellent weapon.
Swept
piled
admired
saved
for another
never-new day
re-cycle
re-tell
re-kindle
Eat off your floors?
No, thank you.
So clean a house
lies.
Oddments 
April 13, 2014 at 10:21 pm
Another wonderful poem. And image!
April 13, 2014 at 10:41 pm
Thanks, Shirah. I have definitely been influenced by Tamara.
April 14, 2014 at 2:36 am
Ha, it was all part of my evil plan. World domination of poetry! I love the description of what the cleaning lady cleans, and how clean a house lies! Boy, do I relate! Another beauty, Maureen!
April 14, 2014 at 10:16 am
Thank you! Not just for the kind words but for the laugh. I hope I didn’t wake up my neighbors.
I’m in the process of being surprised at how cathartic it can be to try to write poetry.