by Adreanna Riley
In April of the year,
she unearths buckets, dusty
from a year's disuse,
untangles the handles
from the gardening hose,
and scours the insides
with no-scratch Ajax.
She mixes solutions of bleach
and hot water, tap water
and Ivory dish soap, diluted vinegar,
each in its bucket,
and soaks the sepia sponges
dislodged from the topmost shelf
of the broom closet.
She works seven days, Sunday
to Sunday; she scrubs the walls,
floors, counters, and cupboards,
wiping the mirrors without
a glance at her face,
and collects the cobwebs
strung high on the bathroom walls.
When the house shines she washes the buckets.
When the buckets are clean she stores
the sponges, the bleach,
the vinegar and dish soap, and sits
down, her elbows weary
of repeated motion,
her hips stiff from bending over.
By May morning light
she changes the sponge
on the mop, replaces the peach jam
and soy sauce on the glistening shelves,
folds away her worn denim shirt,
her head-wrap and thongs,
and takes up residence again.
Editor's note: Ms. Riley is the first brave and uppity soul to submit her work to Uppity Women. Her courage is much appreciated, as is her work.