27.4.14

For the Crew

This might be a poem too... Don't judge too much, it's just the first draft for a class.


For the Crew

We are ungraceful dancers,
with our vacuum partners
and our sure moving hands
dripping diamonds
of dishwater.

We fill up the air with
hidden praise, off key,
from our lips,
keeping beat with
the thump of moving chairs.

We serve with our towels,
laughing because we believe
that our exchanges
are somehow witty,
we eavesdrop, and
lift our noses to catch
the smell of tea.

I would not trade our
nightly dance for
a world of clean dishes,
put neatly in their places,
and I do not wish to be
anything less than
a member of this
safe place.

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