Ann Keiffer

The Cat Who Mistook Himself for a Swiffer

Sunn Grooming2

A handy dusting tool,
the Swiffer,
a fluffy white ruff,
a cottony paper puff
stuck on a stick
that extends
with a twist of the wrist,
so you can dust high or low,
behind or in between.
My cat thinks he’s a Swiffer.

Sunny, who’s new here,
sleeps around the house
in his fabulously fluffy
pet-me-now fur,
creamy white,
tipped with points
of red-gold light,
and sports
little white gloves
on his feet.

Since his arrival,
Sunny has been
and dusting
every surface,
every cranny and crevice,
every hidey-hole in the house
with his beautiful Swiffer-self…

…behind the washer and dryer,
…on office shelves over our heads,
…under low cabinets, under beds,
…in neglected corners of closets,
…inside the flat-screen armoire
in that snaky tangle of cords
behind the electronics,
…even in the nearly-flat-cat space
between the fireplace insert
and the sooty fireplace wall.

What a fluffy mess when
Sunny’s creamy-white
emerges not-so-bright,
and his white gloves
lose their gleaming.
Fortunately, it’s not
a problem very long.
Our Swiffer is

Ann Keiffer
February, 2013


About Ann

I am interested in the strange beauty of brokenness, in transforming possibility in difficult times, in how we heal even when we can’t get better, in the alchemy of surrender, in the interplay of light and shadow, in the bounty of everyday wonders, in the gift of laughter…and writing about it, all and everything.

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