I bought a floor cleaner called Poet. Today I cleared the kitchen with Poet. The apartment smells nice, if a bit sweet. Which is what you’d expect if you use poetry to do your housework, though the moment poets have the same task as disinfectant, something’s gone wrong. My mother, for example, would never buy a cleaning fluid called Poet; a product called Action would be more up her street. She’d see the word Poet as a nuisance, like some inherited furniture she’d have declared useless and thrown out long ago given half a chance. My mother would have got rid of poetry just like every summer she got rid of things she considered unusable from the cupboard my brother and I shared. Our choice of cleaning products shows how we’re different. I bought Poet, with the scent of wild flowers, because it seemed like the epitome of everything I hate most about poetry.
– Brenda Lozano, Loop (Charco Press, 2019)
Illustration Nick Victor