The Bathroom
It’s got to go.
Superfluous flowers crawling
up the walls
and onto the ceiling.
Purple and blue assaults.
Green bombs.
A florid pattern that makes me want to shut the door.
Lock it in.
I think it’s growing.
Is it growing?
Quick!
Get a knife!
No! A scraper or anxious fingernails
that have been waiting
to tear
the jungle
down.
Clean cut white would be nice.
And steely grey would cut the memory from our eyes.
I think grey would be okay.
Don’t you?