Spring Cleaning

First goes floordust, then newspapers

stacked near the bed. Peanut shells

swept out of hiding between mattress

and rug. Toenails clipped.

Sprouts of a beard shaved off.

With hourly glasses of Deer Park Water

and the barest of food, the body

sheds winter fat and filler.

The hair goes next, close

to the gleaming, gleaming skull.

You are ready for the sun

and the salt-tongued air.

You are someone new. I will be

someone new, like you, and promise

not to hear the rattle our bones make

moving from empty closets

and all through the room.

Notes:

This poem was previously published in Love’s Instruments (Tia Chucha Press, 1995) and is part of the portfolio “Melvin Dixon: I’ll Be Somewhere Listening for My Name.” © Melvin Dixon and used with permission of the author’s estate. You can read the rest of the portfolio in the April 2024 issue.

Source: Poetry (April 2024)