©1991 Susan Noyes Anderson
Why does my mother have to say,
“Go clean your room?” It wrecks my day.
“Go clean your room!” she says to me.
“There’s clothes where carpet used to be,
and games and books on top of those,
and snacks starting to decompose!
Clean that room! Right now!! This minute!!!
(or you’ll spend the weekend in it.)”
“I’d love to clean my room!” I say.
“In fact, if I could have my way,
I’d clean Sunday through Saturday!
There’s just one problem; don’t you see?
Well, actually, there’s thirty-three”:
“my homework’s due i lost it too can’t find my book don’t wanna look my finger’s hurt i’m scared of dirt my lips look blue my tongue does too i stepped on gum i jammed my thumb the floor’s too low i stubbed my toe i broke my back the toe turned black i’m feeling bad my best friend’s mad my gun won’t squirt i stained my shirt my nail came off i have a cough it makes me choke i smell some smoke i think there’s bugs under my rugs i need a net my feet got wet my shoe’s unlaced i’m being chased i’ve got the giggles my eyebrow wiggles i have a sty my mouth feels dry i have a twitch that needs an itch i need to sneeze god bless me please”
“Uh-oh. I guess that’s thirty-four.
No wonder I can’t do that chore!”
(see “Related Poems” below to find poems on similar topics)