Chores don’t do themselves on Christmas
The cats still shit in the litter box and beyond.
The laundry piles up in the cracks of the couch
Dishes find their way into the bathroom
Where someone unwrapped a gift and
Threw the paper on the floor.
The dog has gone hungry since yesterday afternoon.
I don’t even know where she is.
You probably think I disappeared to play with toys
I’m in the basement sorting trash.
It is quiet down here.
Chores don’t do themselves on Christmas.
The woodbox is almost empty.
My bathroom smells like urine.
There’s long hair in the sink.
There are spiders in the skylight in the bathroom
that will drop on you as you sit.
Chores don’t do themselves for Christmas.
Now get the . . .out of my house.