the step sweeper
actually this poem
is about the step sweeper’s daughter’s step sister.
This is the archive of original sketches.
Please visit the 2019 redrawn version – here
I'm not a step sweeper
I’m a step-sweeper’s daughter
but I have a step sister
who sweeps steps with water.
she can sweep a steep step
with her step-sweeping broom
Then mop it all dry and be finished by noon.
She will sweep and then polish the longest stair flight
’til the balustrades gleam, and the nosings are bright
’til the risers and landings and winders and newels
glisten and sparkle like so many jewels
but you know,
it’s essential to sweep before buffing?
Because once while daydreaming, her mind full of nothing,
She wet-swept a step she had already glossed –
the result you can guess was a frictional loss.
first slippy
then slidy and somersault-atious.
And bumpy (not glidy) and precipitatious.
she survived,
she recovered and wiser – the fact is
She now does her work in a step by step practice
She sweeps the stairs down, and then polishes up.
She’s the toast of the town and we all raise a cup
To the girl who sweeps steps with a style that’s unique –
Step-sister step-sweeper, now with stepwise technique.
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actually, this poem
is about the step sweeper’s daughter’s step sister.
This is the archive of original sketches.
Please visit the 2019 redrawn version – here
