Every Monday, she cleans the church,
on her knees, mop and bucket, doesn’t quit
until every pew is shining like God’s light,
the floor is spotless as a new born soul.
On Tuesdays, she does the third floor
of an office block, an accounting firm.
vacuums the carpet, sucks away
every mote of dirt like bad data
from an income statement,
dusts every desk as tidy as a balance sheet.
On Wednesdays, her duties lie
with the local fast food joint.
She struggles and sweats through
her menu of tasks.
On Thursday, she plies her trade
at the local clinic, slaves away
until all is well.
Friday, it’s her own home that gets her attention.
Stains come clear like a healing bruise.
Windows shine like the face of a woman
doing it on her own.
Every room’s as neat as a divorce.