“The chaos in your room reflects the mess in your head,”
My momma always told me.
Nowadays, golden rings
line my mugs,
books litter the floor,
papers like stepping stones
in a path to the door, my favorite
sweaters their own Mount Everest
next to my bed with its
knotted mess of sheets.
“Maybe if you cleaned this mess up,”
My momma always told me,
“There wouldn’t be one in your head.”