Crumbs and dust bother her.
Clothes, abandoned haphazardly throughout
the apartment, eat at her.
She feels like she is fighting a merciless battle without an end
against the impudent traces of disorderly habits.
Life implied filth, stain and disorder.
Her role is to prevent it from appearing this way.

She is the cleaning lady !
The one who, with a sweep of the broom,
transforms yesterday into a new day.
Her movements are the wipe of a rag,
Her anger, the roar of the vacuum cleaner
and her discourse, sprays of tepid water.
Her thoughts gently unraveling
then dispersing,
like fading resistance before a singular obsession:
the tidiness of the appearance.

Since, she finds herself dreaming,
her spirit wanders with the rhythm of her motion,
and the more she cleans and puts things in order around herself,
the more her mind is in disorder.
She feels herself leaving,
taking off
in flight.
She knows that obsession allows for dreaming,
a true dream:
one that will never be realized.
She therefore leaves, far away, at her inmost being,
her desires,
her needs,
and everything else she is made of,
she no longer recognizes,
for a long time now
in the eyes of others.

Keep cleaning,
picking up,
in order not to see anymore,
in order not to suffer anymore,
in order not to think anymore.
Cleansing herself
neat and clear
like her apartment will be,
after such a frenzy.


Back to Summary 10-1998
©1997-2000 by pisalou