Sterile Scent

A damp rag folded over tile,

bleach bubbles burst like sighs.

The kitchen floor shines too clean,

but the smell won’t leave my eyes.

It clings like a ghost from the hospital halls,

where white walls swallowed sound,

and that harsh, biting scent

caught my breath and held it down.

Now I scrub again, twice,

tracing back a sterile thread.

The scent a bruise beneath my skin,

a story too quiet to be said.