Saint Martha at Christmas

by Jennifer A Sutherland

I clean before the celebration. I scrub,

I punish dust, I wipe down, eliminate

what daily gathers, and put out pretty

things I ordinarily keep packed away,

at the backs of shelves and cabinets.

I won’t be shamed for my preferring

to put up from year to year. A badger

confronts the hawthorn to preserve

his stores of honey. So I undertake

the domestic necessary. I know one day

I’ll find the ornamental angel’s wings

have chipped while I was doing laundry.

I know I will confront the prickly griefs

I’ve hallowed in the quills.