housekeeping

she follows humans daily
through the wilds
like a hunter detecting tracks
scrutinizing scat
discovering debris
and bent-down broken bits of bedding —
life’s little leavings

apart from the occasional greeting
she doesn’t see them
doesn’t speak their language
doesn’t understand the life
of dining, drinking, debauching —
deep pockets
emptied on the floor
for her to sweep up

she goes home
and feeds her kids
when they go to bed
she sits on the stoop
with a glass of water
while the street lamp flickers on
she stirs the water with her finger —
dance music in the distance

when morning comes
she sees them off
boards the bus
and heads to the wilds
once more


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