it's time

it's time,
you think, steadying
yourself, taking
a shot of whiskey
for courage, throwing
it back, making
your eyes water.
it's time,
to finally do what
you have to do.
you've delayed it
for years
and years. you've
endured through
the spills
and the smells,
the broken
glass
and sticky globs
of what not.
taking a deep
breath
you put on your gloves,
get a bucket full
of Lysol and
open the refrigerator,
you get on your
knees and begin
to pull out
the rotted fruit
and vegetables.
the cold pizza.
seventeen bottles
of partially
used salad
dressings. unmarked
foiled balls
of mystery food.