The Help

You leave behind doubt

like footprints in my mind

only the dirty kind,

on my just mopped soul.

Moments before you arrived

forthrightly as if invited

I had Swiffer WetJet

all the threats of insanity.

I even washed the kitchen curtains

they were misery stained

with cigarette smoke.

I asked you nicely

not to track that

spit, grit and shit

on my just mopped psyche

and you waltzed in

without taking off your shoes,

disrespecting the rules

of this house

with your doodoo smelling voodoo

trying to kill my feng shui.

It takes me hours to clean

the smudge of grudges.

I’m getting tired of cleaning up after you.