Therapy

When she got home from the funeral, she cleaned.

She folded laundry, washed dishes,

Put books back on shelves.  She made the bed.

She filed important documents, put

Family photos in protective plastic covers.

She pulled dried and wilted vegetables from

The refrigerator, stuffed them into the

Compost bin. She got on her knees,

Scrubbed sticky spots from the floor.

She wiped grime off the sink, scrubbed

The toilet with a toothbrush.

She washed three layers of paint

Off the walls. She exposed rebar.

She scrub-brushed the bathtub until

The enamel melted away, and there was just

Metal.  

When she got home from the funeral, she messed.

She stripped the blankets from the bed, twisted

Them, threw them on the floor. She pulled

All the clothing from the closet, spread it

Over the bare mattress. She poured

Honey on the countertops, sprinkled them

With dry oatmeal. She put books in the oven.

She pulled dried and wilted vegetables

From the refrigerator, dropped them in

Crumbs onto the floor. She spread the

Tangled hairs from her comb over the sink

And toilet seat. She smeared pink

Stomach medicine on the walls.

She piled junk mail and telephone books

And shoes into a seven-foot barricade
Blocking the door.