ode to the cleaner

You, who artfully nestled my avocado
Into the motherly curve of the bananas
Officiating the marriage of this fruitful family
In matrimony atop the gleaming counter
In search of something to be held
Seeing infancy, even in groceries

You, conductor of the vacuum’s aria
That sings from dusty lungs into the room
Perfumed with sweet ammonia

You, general of the army of shampoo bottles
Standing at attention in perfect ranks
Leaver of calling cards of quiet perfections
In the tissues blooming like roses

You, who is holy, all-knowing I offer you my mess guiltlessly
Showing the secrets of closets and corners
The cavern between couch cushions
The hushed filth in junk drawers

You, the tolerant labor of womanhood
I can see you kneeling humbly in the bathtub
Long after you’ve come and gone
I take the hand towel left laundered
Pressed in perfect thirds, consumed
By this warm, motherly abundance

You've offered me with open hands