She didn't fit
in with the
rich. The way
they curdled at
strangers and rose
to greet the
shameless.
She'd rather serve
than sit, knowing
better the kitchen
chatter. Always
behind the curtain,
the cooks barking
like dogs, settled
in their crates.
She stood straighter
when she entered
their domain. A rouse
for their own,
(for her own)
delight. Their
tablecloths candlelit
so you'd never
see the filth.
She liked to work
near the ocean
thinking it better
for breathing. Hope
above the blue. Drinks
at high noon. They
thought they saw
a rainbow, someone
asked her to confirm
asked her for a photo
asked her for a drink
they were certain
they saw a rainbow
isn't it always
a close call.
She never wanted
to be rich. Thinking
they'd been tricked.
A butterfly
slipped inside
deciding to hide
just past a lady's
head. It flew unnoticed,
the tantalizing
conversation, affairs
much bigger than
a monarch. They
rarely noticed the
sea, though it's
what they paid
to see. Encumbered
by the expense of
carelessness. Cartier
bands strapped to
their wrists like
lifeboats. Nobody told
them gold sinks
as fast as silver.