Courtesy:  Chrissie White

Courtesy: Chrissie White

Air traffic control charts a course over my house
I wave at planes’ underbellies
as I water the fuchsia impatiens but never
get a response today is interminable
but the weeks die young the closest
my life has come to a movie montage
is walking past adjacent soccer fields
on a Saturday morning it’s as if
the same children age a year every thirty seconds
until they’re adolescents suddenly budding with
hostility in this manner I find myself
folding my family’s laundry they always
leave tissues in their pockets
the wet confetti the hours wasted
on eradicating wrinkles
and expunging stains
running a household is about
the management of toxins
their uses and containment
did you know I know
of at least three ways to kill
with a can of air freshener
you do now