"Stockholm"

Flip your broom around swift
swivel your head to determine when and if
someone ventures behind you
stab at cracked floorboards
make a path for dust's liking

Sometimes I wish you were a level below
so you could hear me tip toe around
muttering sonnets frozen on my tongue
Shakespeare wrongly grabbed my shoulders
and shook out

Trickles of dust would seep upon your head
Brush it off and think it lint
How magnificent will sunlight dance when
I peer inside -- may I?
the kingdom I created waves back always