Handmaid
Tending, fingers raw, for I’ve scrubbed, scoured and mopped all but my brow, as she soaked. Eyes closed, head back, hair a glowing stream of sunset running over the side of the porcelain gleaming from my morning’s work. She is done now, with her Sunday bath, and these raw-rubbed hands must survive the indignity of a fiery forest of knots. Taming, tending, touching – these are my skills, my art. For touch is the work of the handmaid. Lisa Conquet Lisa Conquet was lucky to grow up in NYC -- a place that mirrors her spirit, energy and mix of cultures. The city fed her soul and her love of words. As a copywriter for a Madison Avenue ad agency, she utilized her psychology degree to entice consumers, then went back to school and turned the tables. Now she is a psychotherapist who uses poetry to help her clients.
1 Comment
Sandy Gonzalez
5/20/2017 11:43:23 pm
Beautifully describes some memories ...brings me to a place where I once lived, but never envisioned it would be missed
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January 2021
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