The Motel Maid
I saw her through the open motel door, her back
was faced to me as her hands wished away
all that room 134 left behind
Hope felt slick between her two canary yellow
gloves, a fish angry for its water
would she recognize me now?
Her daughter, visiting from a future
where she finally found peace away
from chemicals and stereotypes
If she turned around, would she see herself in my eyes?
or notice the same bones, restless
to make a new country feel like home
A new language on a tongue that didn’t want to twist,
I imagine telling her we’re alright, that I grew up only
knowing my belly full and dreams that were as close as clouds
I saw her through the open motel door, a woman
I didn’t even know, holding yellow daffodils over a
porcelain bowl, wishing on each one like a star
Vanessa Butler