Pure and Clean

Where did the neurotic

root take water

in the dirty soil?

Maybe years before

Existence was

blinked into

the reality

of all this,

God knowing

His creation

And the dark line

coloring through it,

soaking within cell

to cell, one human,

then another,

until the day I

stood in the doorway

watching my Granny

soap her arms up

to her elbows,

Doing all she could

on her own

to stay pure

and clean.