vacuum yanked to attention in front
of the giant frown, the couch sagging
like the corners of her mother’s mouth—
quick switch on
the air growls through the machine in a hurry.
dust motes roused from rest
take off like bees swarming,
eye noise on top of ear noise,
but she can’t see.
the sting is from the grin—
no, it’s a frown—the glee
of I told you so
bunching into the muslin
sliding into the retention-pond-sized
buttock marks the sofa harbors.
the handle of the vacuum zooms
to erase the space
the sloth has left

until chunk goes her foot heavy on the vacuum

noise settles to silence
dust alights still
and she settles into the bow of the couch
face cradling a smile.