vacuum dancing

i took to excavating the apartment
at the end of each day 
as if to announce to the walls, 
"we were never here." standing in 
the kitchen & swaying with
ceiling fan. i felt grateful
for my enclosures. the number of
entrances between me & the bears.
the mountain outside the window
had flocks of wild & waiting.
no, i'm lying. i wasn't afraid
of bears. in fact, i wanted more.
left my back door open
in the hopes they might stumble inside
& make a disaster of me.
how glamorous that might be 
to be made a ribbon of fear for once.
i moved back & forth with 
my vacuum. calling her "darling"
& "sweet." her endless mouth.
the way she could take insider her
all my catastrophe just to spit it out
into a plastic bag. i am alarmed 
by how easy it is to dispose of
a day's worth of skin. she told me
not to worry. told me there would
always be more. getting down
on my hands & knees in the hallway.
following a centipede to a hole 
in the wall where his world
would be feathered & waiting.
telling my vacuum i wanted her
to call this a dance if not
a sacrifice. he never agreed 
or disagreed. simply followed me.
picturing those dance step diagrams
all across the splintered wood floor.
we live in such capsules. 
my vacuum asked me for one more round--
from the hallway to the bathroom.
then, no more. putting her back
into her stone-sleep & me into
my bear-waiting. 

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