For God's Sake

Why don’t you clean up your place,
can’t you see that crummy pile of
tin cans crouched under the lilac bush,
that chair sagging on the porch,
those broken flowerpots climbing
the back steps, branches all over
the lawn, papers everywhere—do you
have to be told to get this junk
the hell-and-gone to the dump? Rake
the stalks and litter off the tulip bed,
this garden used to be quite a sight
in the spring—but I can hardly bear
to see it now because it looks so much
like I feel.