I'm building a robot to
clean up my room
using junk on my floor like this busted balloon.
I'll build it with tee-shirts and three smelly socks,
four wrappers, a rock, and a cereal box,
a handful of worms that were dried in the sun,
my brother's rare comic, a cinnamon bun,
a library book that's a year overdue,
a sneaker, a sandal, and Dad's missing shoe.
I'll keep on constructing with old underwear,
used tissues, dried spit balls, and fallen-out hair,
a half-eaten sandwich, that's half a year old,
a broken umbrella I can't get to fold.
I'll top off my robot with crushed soda cans,
a jar full of flies, and a bucket of sand.
As I finish my robot, I have to confess,
that my room is now clean, but my robot's a mess.