The Custodian

The Custodian

The coffee cups we take into the sanctuary
she sees as spots to scrub from the carpet later.
On youth night she braces herself
for toilets plugged with paper towel
sinks clogged with toilet paper.
The inconspicuous, numberless door
in the hallway we’ve never really noticed—
she has the key to it
could find Pinesol, rolls of tissue
jugs of antibacterial soap and Windex
without stumbling over the industrial octopus
that splays its floppy hoses
all over the floor.
She knows who ambles in
bleary-eyed and tousle-headed
for prayer on Tuesday morning at 6:00
and on her 1:00 p.m. round remembers
to check between sofa cushions in the café
for crunched napkins and balls of plastic wrap.
On Alpha night she is there with her bucket
to clean up kitchen spills and bathroom floods.
After the funeral tea she appears out of nowhere
to deal with the  overflowing garbage.
She comes with her key anytime to unlock any door.
Always kind, smiling, cheerful helpful, willing
she is the servant of all.
She is the greatest of all!

– Violet Nesdoly (© 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

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So far my Poem-A-Day challenge  has been going well. The poem above was yesterday’s write, inspired by Robert Brewer’s Poetic Asides prompt for Day 6:

“For today’s prompt, write a poem from the perspective of a person who either works at and/or visits a place you like to visit (that’s not yourself). For instance, a fry chef at the Krusty Krab, a bouncer at a nightclub, waitress at a restaurant, etc.”

This post is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Diane Mayr at Random Noodling.