The Cleaner

The Cleaner

Amazed at the way

the rubber gloves

almost fit,

as if made

for someone just like her,

but different.

She started in the kitchen,

bruising her knees

on the cold linoleum floor,

staining her elbows

with a mix of grease

and all purpose, 

industrial strength,

professional use,

concentrated cleaner.

Which barely made a dent.

He sat in his chair watching,

with his ever present

glass of port.

When she was done

she lit a cheap cigarette,

not as satisfied

as she thought she would be.

And he poured

another glass;

not for her,

for someone just like her,

but different.

So she put her ashes in his palm,

as she walked out the door.

With no trace of a smile

on her face.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

oh the imagery relates every nuance of expression~ I saw this wondrous cinderella coming into her own with each facial characteristic~ good for her~ he deserves nothing but ash~