She rushes home from school Thursdays
white saddle shoes trimmed blue,
a striped shirt tucked tight to a flared pink skirt.
She pulls the front beveled door,
lets the screen hit her bottom, aims fast
for the woman polishing silver.
A worn apron, limp bow at the waist,
natty hair beneath a net. Cora turns, face aglow,
smiles with open arms. The child jumps toward bountiful breasts.
The cleaning lady swings her ‘round, smothers
kisses on the girl’s cheeks, who
laughs, squeezes maids’ abundant flesh.
Her white uniform
reeks of perspiration.
Housekeeping extends dark stains
from arm pits to breasts.
The child ignores the sweat, smell
the screechy garbled voice.
They bathe each other in love.