Poem: Disinfect His Displeasure

Art / Tara Griz

You start by decluttering the shelves 

Take each trinket off 

Dust and polish the ornament, the glass, and his ego  

Crawl onto the icy white tile 

Attempt to scrape his temper out from under your skin 

Hide the smell of his anger  

With detergent, ethanol, vinegar, acid, clorox, and forgiveness 

For the scent of violence may be disguised with the sight of shimmer 

The counters are lacquered in his passive aggression  

Isn’t it better when it’s passive though?  

Because when his brutality is buried in the fibres of the carpet  

Bleach won’t pull the outrage from your ears  

Putting down the cloth  

Threads barely held together 

Look down at the paper towels soaked in fear  

You wonder if your hands will recover 

If the next ‘him’ will be calm  

And if the next home will be clean 

You wonder why your still scrubbing 

It never really does feel pristine in this home.  

Does it. 

You’ve packed every product away 

The sweep, the spray, the bitterness 

Prepared for the next shower of filthy ferocity