Domestic Work, 1937 Poem by Natasha Trethewey
Domestic Work, 1937
All week she's cleaned
someone else's house,
stared down her own face
in the shine of copper--
bottomed pots, polished
wood, toilets she'd pull
the lid to--that look saying
Let's make a change, girl.
But Sunday mornings are hers--
church clothes starched
and hanging, a record spinning
on the console, the whole house
dancing. She raises the shades,
washes the rooms in light,
buckets of water, Octagon soap.
Cleanliness is next to godliness ...
Windows and doors flung wide,
curtains two-stepping
forward and back, neck bones
bumping in the pot, a choir
of clothes clapping on the line.
Nearer my God to Thee ...
She beats time on the rugs,
blows dust from the broom
like dandelion spores, each one
a wish for something better.
Very moving poem...it makes.me think of appreciation for life. Good work on this poem.
A great poem by the laureate which brings back memories of my own childhood and the limited options for African Americans of the old south.
a well written poem of a persons weekly routine? showing how they took pride in what they did!
This poem conjures memories of my great grandmother Ruth. She was a domestic cleaner, I believe in the 1930s. She was an incredible women from my young memory.
It is 2024! we still do the domestic work, go to temple, Church, or any other holy place! Add to it writing poetry or any other job! But please don't degrade the value of home and the work needed to have it called a home!
A vivid depiction of domestic work so beautifully crafted. A powerful and heartfelt poem. Liked the closure line.
But Sunday mornings are hers- church clothes starched and hanging, a record spinning on the console, the whole house dancing. limited options for the african americans... expressed well. the slave life. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/5/2025 8:59:35 PM # 1.0.0
heart felt poem.. love it... top marks..