(I think I wrote this poem whilst on a retreat, c. 2014.)
The corridor is perfumed by the smell of cleaning products; Scented like flowers watered with bleach. The result is as sterile and lifeless As a desert. It evokes in me A feeling of familiarity; My mind, too, have I tried to cleanse, To fill with heavenly odours, To rid of dirt and grime. In consequence It has become A barren wilderness Where tumbleweed dances On an echoing wind.