When I vacuum, I sing
worship songs, praises to God, wishes
for another life, a life that won’t fall
apart with every turn, every look,
every glance in another direction.
A better life. I sing for mercy,
for love that swells, swirls the heart
until it bursts, leaving me a fragment
of who I was, who I am, a flame
of who I will be. With the rumble,
all I have to do is sing.