Mop Woman
Mop Woman
Near dwarf this woman.
Foreign born. Minsk,
perhaps. Nose
a fist. Hair
a whisk broom
only black. Her back
an Orthodox cupola,
her arms braids of gym rope
lowered to the floor.
Orangutans could climb
those ropes, hand
over hand, no rose
no purple
doughnuts
on their hinds.
Near dwarf this woman.
Foreign born. Minsk,
perhaps.
Her hands, all gristle,
hang an inch, no more,
above her shining floor.
Donal Mahoney
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