Women’s Work

A Poem of Place

Photo by Miranda Garside on Unsplash

(1)

Blue doors open on quiet streets at dawn.

Glossy hair neatly braided,

Aprons fresh, they splash their buckets

Over worn cobblestones,

Sweep with brisk authority;

Clean the stoop anew each day.

Women’s work.

(2)

They dust hot red chili over

Sweet rings of golden pineapple,

Dry in the sun, the fruit,

Their brown skin;

Their voices call to me

As I pass through the market.

But I am searching for ripe fruits

Of sapote and sapodilla.

(3)

One woman and one woman and one woman,

Dressed in black with bright shawls,

Hover over pots of boiling oil.

Quick hands, fingers, pinch together

The butter, the sugar, the red chili,

Form the masa over rich pink paste.

(4)

Drop their precious bits.

Up to the surface they rise,

Golden bolsas for the children who wait

In their school uniforms,

Stiff with starch and care,

Shiny and clean each day.

Cinco empanadas por un peso.