House of my Heart

I’m airing out the house of my heart.
All the cobwebbed corners,
the shelves of knickknacks,
are being dusted
unmercifully.
I’m opening the shutters
letting the wind blow out
the musty smell of disuse.
I’m putting flowers
in all the rooms.
Even the basement, the attic
ignored for so long
are getting a going over.
All that old junk has got to go.
It’s just shelter for spiders
that tap away when the lights
come on.

I’m trying to put the house of
my heart in order.
“Smarten up,” I say,
adjusting the bowties of my fears.
“Stand up straight,” I say,
brushing off the jackets of my doubts.
“Everyone be on your best behavior,”
I say to my wants and needs.
“We have a guest coming.”

Taylor Jones’ fiction and poetry has appeared in Spit Poet Zine, Smoky Quartz, South Broadway Ghost Society, and Barren Magazine. Her website is: tjonesportfolio.wixsite.com/taylorjones. She was born and raised on the East Coast, but now lives in Denver, Colorado, in a house full of plants. Twitter: @I_heart_fungi. Insta: @tjonespainting

This poem is from South Broadway Press’ new anthology, 
Dwell: Poems About Home. Purchase here.