How The Dirt Accumulates

Sweeping floors
with a new broom
one finds debris and
is occasionally shocked
to recognize how old
some of these minute scraps
are, to recognize how long it’s been
since they first fell from their sources;
take for instance the corner
of a candy wrapper
from a few months back,
consumed in anger
while you muttered
at your body’s refusal to shrink,
after which you tossed all the candy
into the trash and haven’t bought 
any since, so this is without question
from that wrapper you tore off
and that scrap is angering you
again, or your weight is, or
your sloth and slovenly habits are,
it never ends, a new broom
can only sweep so much clean,
why bother, why bother to sweep
at all, everything leaves its dirt behind
and underfoot it makes a sad noise
as it cuts into your sad feet,
needling and whining
remember, remember
as if forgetting was an option.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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