[Jim Moonan]

.
I’ve extended my thinking on this poem… and had a wild thought handed to me seemingly out of the blue: could this simply be a poem to express your displeasure for cleaning? You wouldn’t be the first to abhor the chore. This morning, in what can only be described as a coincidence masquerading as a missing puzzle piece, I came across this bit of information about Emily Dickinson:

“The poet took pleasure in the sweeter culinary arts, baking the family’s bread and cake, but Emily Dickinson wanted nothing to do with cleaning. She complained of her more willing sister to one girlhood friend, “I don’t see much of Vinnie—she’s mostly dusting stairs” (L176). “God keep me from what they call households,” she prayed (L36). Her understanding of the dynamics of women’s work proves more complicated than these youthful tirades. The poem “How many times these low feet staggered” (Fr238) both registers the stultifying effect of housework on women’s lives and criticizes a society that fails to value the work of sweeping cobwebs and washing windows.” (Emily Dickinson and Cooking)


I, for one, enjoy tidying up. Cleaning chores are my favorite form of procrastination. For example, I have a glass-topped dining table that I obsess about keeping clean of smudges and dust that seem to appear out of nowhere. Presently, it gleams and reflects the cherry tree that is in bloom outside my window. At various times throughout the year it provides a seasonal, ghostly reflection of the woods out back. It gives me a deep sense of something I can’t describe that is unlike any other visual I can think of. Reflections of another world on glass, maybe.

To continue with my outlandish interpretations of your poem, it could be that it represents your rage against procrastination. I am a guilty consumer of procrastination. I use it to ponder. I’m getting better at interrupting it and rushing back to the page when something suddenly occurs to me. But in general procrastination robs me more than it rewards me : )

The New Yorker comment was just an off-the-cuff thought. I think I had been leafing through the current issue and the poems in it failed to impress me. Yours did.

.