ode to bleach

in the dog of summer

when it’s time to clean

the kitchen sink i pour you

on my sponge.

we scrub together in bubbly

melodies. there’s nothing

quite like your toxic perfume

–how it reminds me

of my grandmother’s pantry—

warming up my nose.

and the parties we host!

all the balloon-lungs we air up

and the hawaiian punch

we wipe off shirts.

i love how white

you make the dark,

how your clear stream

streaks the pollock-stains

straight off the canvas.

and your blankness!

oh the things you could rebirth

if we let you:

spilt supernovas in the sky,

all my bad nights.

oh how i wish to drink you—

but only sometimes!