Spotless

We have been cleaning all day.
The mother-in-law
With the white gloves
Is coming.
She will find some dirt
Even if she has to
Shake it out of the vacuum.
She is wearing a uniform
(Or a costume),
Walking loudly and
Carrying a small stick.
When we hear her steps,
We hide and wait
For her fee, fi, fo, fum.

What we hide is ourselves,
The passionate parts,
(Joy, anger)
That are not like her.
We stuff ourselves in a closet.
And what if she opens it
(She could be a closet critic for the Times)
And parts of us tumble out;
She still wouldn’t notice
We were not like her.