April 18, 2023

this is no time to make things pretty

Hence the meatloaf and its wobbly oblong in the pan where the batter 
for banana bread usually goes. I’m not tucking in the bed sheets either.
This is no time to make things pretty. Let’s let the edges flop over like insolent teenagers.
Let’s make turbulent piles of laundry. Let’s scoop sloppy dollops of cat food into the dish, 
mash it all the way up the sides. Look how Mother Nature has loosened 
her girdle, the slapdash way the rain has been coming all day, divoting patches
where the spring blooms have been tentatively showing their faces. I’m taking her cues, 
forgiving myself the inelegant dinner, the leaning tower in the linen closet, the animals 
lapping carnivorously at their bowls. I’m aiming for a different kind of greatness, 
the kind with mud at my heels. I’m sinking in as far as the ground will hold me.