The Maid

How carefully I polish cracks
Each winding marble stair
All a facade that’s meant to hide
Stains in her underwear

Which counters the impeccably
Dressed woman she’s to be
Behind the doors of messy rooms
That only I can see

Papers, clothes strewn on the floor
As if by one deranged
I put each color coded
Alphabetically arranged

In massive walk in closets
To the space where they belong
And the stiffened towels washed
I dare not touch with tongs

And in the bathroom garbage piles
On top of which does rest
The countless negative results
Of her pregnancy tests

And in the den a stack of bills
To be filed or shredded
An accident yet I take in
The sad state of her credit

And in a strange turn of events
I tell her I did find
An earring on his bathroom floor
She says “that isn’t mine”

But steels herself then to complain
Of rings still in the tub
A spot of lint left on the floor
A toilet not well scrubbed

And so peers down her nose at me
That condescending look
Although perhaps that all will change
When I publish my book


64 thoughts on “The Maid

  1. Great storytelling in this. The continuous flow was excellent.
    I also enjoy learning new things about you. I’m assuming you held some sort of maid position? Unless this is another one of your totally made up (always awesome) poem.

  2. Ahhh! The story behind the scenes at last! I knew my son wasn’t the only one determined to live with stuff strewn everywhere!

  3. The maid may have to polish cracks and hide underwear stains, but it could be worse. It could be the opposite. πŸ™‚

  4. Alright!! I love a good Cleaning Lady revenge!! Your endings ALWAYS pay off big time. So funny because our collective unconscious has been communicating again– I have been working on a post about clutter and disorganization.

    • You know what’s even funnier, is so have I. After writing this one, I have been trying to come up with something more specific as to the cleaning habits of the every day woman, that is the love/hate, but mostly hate relationship between woman and bathroom. So far I’ve been unsuccessful at writing something that comes together but with any luck it will…or I’ll just write something else!!

  5. All my illusions about how the “rich and famous” live are trashed in this poem. Is nothing sacred?!!!

    … and I too am curious to know about the research done for this one πŸ˜‰

  6. This is SO wonderful, Marissa. It plays with a story idea I’ve been tickling with. How a person’s trash, deleted e-mails, and hidden boxes play lives hidden by fancy marble and manicured lawns.
    I love how you can tell a story in just a few paragraphs. LOVE!

  7. I would say that you may have been watching a bit of Downton Abbey before you wrote this one, but then I saw that you got the idea from a book.. either way… always treat those who clean your underwear with respect… less the poop be publicized.

  8. I am one who doesn’t like condescending people, Marissa. I hope you didn’t have to have to go through this experience. I used to babysit, when my children went to their Dad’s house, I also cleaned houses for my babysitting clients’ parents. I liked how we were like family, then one day someone referred me to an upscale house owner. I didn’t mind too much how she treated me but on my last day of working for her, I shared my background of how I was raised. I told her, “You never know who you may run into so try to be nice to everyone!” I waited to say this after I received my check, of course! ha ha!

    • Oh how awful! There really is a difference between what you do and how you’re treated for doing it. If it were me, I might have been much more nasty…after I received my paycheck of course!! Ha, ha!

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