Cleopatra and Floorman

She graduated cum laude

from Harvard Law. Married

up. Was elected full partner

in a State Street firm. She

dictated, directed, divined.

She was gorgeous, she knew it.

Her chosen contractor was bald.

He sanded floors for a fortune.

His van held rags, stains, sheens,

sandpapers, abrasive machines.

He showered this client

with "yes ma’ams."

He sanded her townhouse floors

to the palest shade of white oak.

She studied all his stain charts.

She shook her silver coiffure.

She stabbed at the study doorknob—

that exact brown color, she proclaimed.

He rumbled then to Home Depot,

to Benjamin Moore and to Sears.

Sherwin-Williams, Tru-Value …

no stain in that hue was made.

He removed the knob, it was wood …

it was oak! He sanded it!

The floorman was a patriot,

a practiced and practical man.

He stained both doorknob and floors

with Minwax Early American brown.

His floors and client were beaming

as he praised her perfect taste.