I’m putting these medicines back to the shelf
And these unused bandages into its boxes.
I’m returning these balms to whom I borrowed it from,
Throwing these bloodied towels and shirts.

I trace the marks left by the careful stitchwork,
The thin scars left by certain wounds.
I marvel at the fact that I don’t mind seeing them–
And that I wouldn’t mind others asking about them.

I look at the mirror to check myself,
And see a person who never looked better.
Still a few nights of sleep short,
But with a healthy glow of hope.

I tied my hair and rolled up my sleeves,
Took out the garbage and washed the sink.
I watered the plants and pruned out dead leaves,
And washed the curtains spilled with ink.

I haven’t gone as far as the basement,
But I know, today, I was never better.
One day I’ll walk down those stairs,
And face all those hidden clutter.


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