A HOUSEKEEPER’S VILLANELLE
I learned the beauty of futility, and now I know its sorrow
from cleaning rooms at the Holiday Inn;
what you tidy today will need you again tomorrow.
There’s a satisfaction in work whose effort you can show,
soothing to proper corners what is chaos when you begin.
I learned the beauty of futility, and now I know its sorrow,
because there is no end to the process. You must borrow
time, must accept that the struggle is the win:
what you tidy today will need you again tomorrow.
Is it never done? How do you live when you must go
through the same back-bending motions day out and day in?
I learned the beauty of futility, and now I know its sorrow.
Remember that it’s not just about hotel rooms, though;
it’s just as true for hate, failure, pain, or sin.
What you tidy today will need you again tomorrow.
The good work never sleeps: a housekeeper would know.
We clock in and clean up again and again.
And I—I’ve learned the beauty of futility as well as its sorrow—
what I tidy today will need me again tomorrow.
—from Rattle #63, Spring 2019
Tribute to Persona Poems
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Maggie Rue Hess: “More often do I imagine other perspectives than try to write out of them. Others tend to guide me in their directions, like Mary Oliver or my old co-workers. What is tied to our deepest sense of self? Is it our daily work? I spent a summer cleaning hotel rooms, and while I enjoyed the job, I didn’t keep it; what I kept was a respect for those who made a career out of providing comfort for strangers.” (web)
