She sweeps the kitchen

With her eyes

6 AM and that rooster is crowing

He comes stumbling and drunk

Full of lies

She nods in agreement

To every word falling out of his mouth

Makes his breakfast

Takes his beating

And still makes it to work in an hour.

She’s a mighty fine seamstress

Works in a factory all the same

She says, sometimes she likes

Being a number

Better than being a name

She dreams of departure

Lies about the bruise She has on her face.

Her girlfriend says

“Ethel, meet me in the parking lot. I’m gonna lend you my 38“.

She sweeps the kitchen

Trying to keep the red dot

Between the posts

Faithfully remembering

To switch the safety off

So she can turn this nightmare

Into a ghost.

They’re dragging the river

Rumor has it he might have been thrown from the pier

They checked his address

A battered woman

In a torn stained dress

Whispered through her quivering lips

No sir, my man ain’t here No more.

She sweeps the kitchen

With her eyes

6 AM and that rooster is crowing 

As her tea kettle softly cries

She sweeps the kitchen

With her eyes

With her eyes

With those eyes.