A Friday poem from Susan the Wonderchild

Susan's friend, Erin Keenan, wrote the following on FB:

a more decent sort of critter
would stop and seize & shiver
dare never
to call this awful abode, with its trashful clutter
ho-
-me
a more decent sort of critter
the kind without the nervous jitter
would spend its sundays only half in slumber
would write a list, list each item with a number
cross the items off & have them dismembered, all but disremembered
before going back to slumber
in the shiny, sanitary (rarely solitary) bed in the clean abode
a more decent sort of critter

but not this one.

Susan wrote the following response:

A more decent sort of critter
would surely clean the shitter
address the laundry pile
and do it with a smile
the dishes would be cleaned
the bathroom floor degreamed
the cat box scooped with glee
the ceiling cobweb free

however, this is, oh my,
a critter who simply is not I
who lays all morning in a bed
visions of kickball in my head
Tomorrow, perhaps, I may be neat
Today, I'll kick balls with my feet.

A Friday poem from Susan the Wonderchild