top of page

Vern Fein

The Helper

At my in-laws reunion 
we lounge in Paradise,
the Pacific a blue shawl tossed over the shoulders
of a mansion surveying 
endless clouds, sunbathers, yachts. 
We eat, drink, laugh, hug.  


One of the children
who flit around the patio
like multi-colored butterflies,
spills something dark 
on one of the pristine, white stones,
hand-cut patio slab.
Their hired Latina helper, 
an aged lady, 
ignores the party around her,
quickly slips from the shadows, 
falls on her knees,
slaves hard to restore 
purity to that stone,
scrubs and scrubs.


It won't come off, 
There is
lots of stepping around her.  

bottom of page