20150808 (housework)

Disgusting recurring filthy disease ridden DBs Yuck!

Dust Bunnies are too congenially named

Do they come to my house to spawn

Leaping upstairs to get from the basement

To the attic or do they like particulate clouds

Gather electrostatically joining ash from

Faraway volcanoes to local road grit tossed up

By crazy teenagers peeling from a stoplight

To aerial smoke from badly tuned Piper Cubs

Plastic fibers from cheaply made screening

Cat and dog fur loss to bare wood ground

From my exposed subfloor by my shoes

Twisting as I walk my own skin cells

Finally shedding after years months of 

Service tanned to death by the summer sun

Picked off as scabs from old cuts

Bee stings the like then adhering as slight

Summer breezes move them they grow

Like tumbleweed rolls across the desert

Floor of my house until I can no more

Escape their volume nor kill them

With a footstep they survive what would

Place a cockroach in the next world

Sweeping with a broom is a losing operation

Get them anywhere near a dustpan they

Refuse to enter only briefly visit

One must peel them off the edges of the broom

With a careful gentle grasp a task so disgusting

As to move me to nausea then placed into

Mind you into not just above a waste container

Gravity alone will not guide 

Their disgusting lightness directly downward

No they’ll answer to a passing wind

Follow your hand withdrawing 

And elude any receptacle showing you

Who’s boss in this business

Now I could vacuum but I know the air

That’s sucked in soon goes out again

Replete with the dust it derived from the 

Filter no one short of Sheldon Adeleson

Has money to buy enough filters

To collect HEPA dirt so fine it may have

Fallen to earth from lunar landings

It’s a shame we can’t harness the bugs

That infest us to spend their days

Picking up all this crap so we needn’t

Daily or weekly or whateverly

Bind it all with their spittle into tiny

But visible spheres we could roll along

With a broom to the stairs where they’d

Have no choice but drop into a box

We could lid until the next time

How we would not kill ourselves

Dancing on these bbs I haven’t

Yet figured out 

c. J.S.Manista, 2015