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Poem 36: Hoarder

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Hoarder


My bathtub’s full of dishes and glasses.

My closet’s full of everything.

We just can’t get off our asses

and do cleaning in time for spring.


The fridge is stuffed with rotten food.

The freezer’s stuffed with TV dinners.

For shopping we’re always in the mood.

We’re real materialistic sinners.


We have no space at all

in the bathrooms or the dining room.

The pile of dishes is ready to fall

and I don’t know where to find the broom.


There’s no room in the attic

or on the countertop.

My collecting is automatic.

I don’t know how to stop.


There’s no room in the closet.

My collecting’s out of hand.

There’s no way I can pause it.

In my room there’s barely room to stand.


The porch is full of every kind

of bag, box and bin.

It’s curious what state of mind

we who live here are in.

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