Variations on a Theme

I
Some say a vacuum’s crack
But I never spurned my lack
For heavy machinery is often detri mental
In minds where thoughts are absental
Better, I say, to leave a little dust in crevices
Than to leave men to empty surmises
A void is space galactic.
(Avoid assays eclectic)
But, if you will have a vacuum, let it be electric.


II.
Jodhas of lint spur Mark to exert
Himself in such flurry and spurt
That rigorously he fumes,
And vigorously vacuums;
That’s why he’s the world’s expert on dirt.


III.
Lines Composed a Few Inches Above Linted Carpet

Five weeks have passed, five Saturdays, with the length
Of five long Mondays! and again I see
These dust bunnies, wallowing in their darkened corners
With a soft desperate murmur—“It is time!”—
Do I behold the attachments and hoses
That on an idle sequestered machine are at rest.
Thoughts of more deep derision…. And neglect
The disarray with a blink of my eye.
The day is come when I again repose.
No! under this dark, dim roof, I rue
These spots of garbage ‘round, organic dust,
Which during this week, with their unsightliness
Are spread in one gray mass, and lose themselves
‘Mid books and vases. Once again I see
These small specks, hardly small specks, little armies
Of spiteful blots overrun these pitiable rooms,
Screaming to the very door in wreaths of motes—
Lint, up in violence from among debris.
With some uncertain notice, it may seem
That vagrant dweller in the house is shamed;
But no. Such is her case, where by the fire
The Hoover sits alone.

October 1995--written during a dusting of inspiration

All three of these poems were the product of about two hours one evening as I procrastinated (surprise!) vacuuming. Part III is formulated after William Wordsworth's "Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey" (Compare my poem with the first stanza of Wordsworth's!) Wordsworth wrote, "No poem of mine was composed under circumstances more pleasant for me to remember than this..."