Bowed in respect to the scriptures
she drips sweat as the dragon roars.
Like footprints in the sand
futile patterns against the nap
criss-cross and overlap
as she pokes her all-consuming wand
at sinful crumbs, evil clumps of hair,
purging a pathway to an inherited dream
of unblemished surfaces.
On her weekly pilgrimage
along the sunlit hallway
she curses dust, gravity,
the messy sheddings of nature,
kicks the stool and slams the door.
A blockage and bag-change
bring her back to her knees.