Only to hold up
The social standard
We once kept
Yet, mother has swept
Them under the book case
Opportunity is laced
On our cardigans
It buttons up our jackets
And dangles from our ears
The vacuum hasn't seen
The light since
1957
Sculpting the bunnies
That hide under the rug
Feeding them
Every inch of paper
In the pantry
On the backs
Of cereal boxes
Telling us
Preaching to us
Asking
What's your next
Move?
