In my blue tailored collar, 
there’s no calling this pretty pure. 
As the broom and I
elope to sweep out the cobwebs 
while swaying to the hymn of silence.
In each corner, we spot stains.
In each room, we restore serenity.
While you’re in hysteria
preparing for your meetings. 
The polished feel of mahogany 
is my gloved hands work.
The spotless tile flour 
courtesy to broom and me. 
Would you ululate this eternal union? 
Sure, I’m educated, Madam.
I studied dimensions 
of your mansion. 
I even memorised your guests 
and attend to their requests. 
I calculated the quickest way to organise. 
I never failed to make this house your paradise. 
I have written reports of finished inventory. 
With skillful use of medicine in the cabinet, 
I heal haggard patients. 
sure, I’m humble, madam. 
Where I come from,
elders don’t bow to subordinates, Mrs. 
Yet I compliment your youth, madam. 
I soothe the shouts and complaints 
of your offspring. 
They know me well, madam. 
I kneel for a house that isn’t mine.  
I leave behind the squatter camps.  
I leave behind its suffocation and joys.
I leave my children unmothered. 
I climb the risk that is bra Mike’s taxi
for the few coins, I get here. 
To mother this house into a home.
Where your tribe can clink a glass 
and be, as you say, “merry.”
I let you receive accolades solely,
for the house, I made it homely. 
The chronicles of your mansion
are my qualification, madam.  
I wipe my brow at what I have done 
the way only I can.