The Blackness and the Hard Labor of the Housemaid

The Blackness And The Hard Labor Of The Housemaid Store up the spasms of the low rims of busy suns trudging work tills the upheaval of ragged soil and what of shadow hours, sweat and hard toil does indifferent soil its gasping unholy vomit spill she folds the clothes and then she falls asleep. Trudge the hours and crack the unwilling stones as her shadow walks into bars of uneven ethereal mists the dark red rouge smears in round about shy patterns she wonders, where does brown dung of yesterday hide She slaves as a worker, her tired muscles cramp her mind drifts and then it accuses her of nothingness today is for work, tomorrow the mice may play her work is as ancient days a drifting into noon she is bent as a scornful indifferent boothill as she finally stops, yes stops, to dare to go to sleep. Robert J. Lindley, Verse June 2nd 1972 Note: My new girlfriend's mother is a housemaid. Works 6 days week about 12 hour a day/