Fall 2017 (Volume 21, Issue I)
THE SIXTH DECADE OF SPRING CLEANING
I spent dusting light fixtures and cleaning bulbs. I
needed to be near or, better, in the light. Glass
globes freed of bug husks and indiscriminate specks.
Balanced on an end table, I cradled the ceiling dome
in one hand, unscrewed three screws a quarter inch.
Wash, rinse, repeat to reinstall. Living room bulbs
I’d never unscrewed. Bulbs above the stove I had to
clean with vinegar. New-fangled bulbs I was afraid
to touch; they didn’t look like ideas. Bulbs allergic
to human skin, our depraved oils. I did what I could.
I began in the bedroom and ended there. My last
day. I wanted to leave the place well-lit. Every
exhibit is worth seeing.