Deb, you told the principal I look disheveled.
I appreciate the honesty. Stop telling people
I remind you of a mop bucket.

Honesty is nothing to sneeze at.
You know I’ve always balked at looking
down my nose at the janitorial profession,

down at any sort of physical plant
or groundskeeping or maintenance type
of role. They’re so key right now.

The way I picture American culture
and the way I envision you and me, Deb,
“share a horizon,” as my uncle used to say:

like an orb slowly tilting so one crescent
is always moving into obscurity just as
the other is coming into view,

I work these lonely hallways while some
students are in athletics, some in detention,
but the rest gone, cozy around fire

and papa big voice booming comfort
and mama crochet hooks clacketing.
Kids on phones, kids in homes.

And to me you aren’t just any old
Axis Scientific Classic Human Skeleton, Deb.
You’re my Axis Scientific Classic Human Skeleton.