Domestic Help

in California she fills in
for some emptiness of another white man's home
away from her country
and kids and kin as the snow falls freely on the roof
of an American house
layers and layers of cold snow heaping through her eyes
as tears begin to fall
on her cheeks to the floor

she has to pay her bills
she has to write her emails

and then the old man says
it is time for his meal
and medicine

she rushes to his room,
wipes her tears
and she appears before him
on that wry smile of the
brown domestic helper.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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