The housekeeper

The housekeeper 
I don’t know how old he is
But he should have
A long time back
He’s there in the mornings
Six days a week
Carrying the putrid remains 
Of other people’s feasting
There’s unwanted parts
Of Vegetable 
Fruit peels too
Discarded meals
And worse
Sanitary pads
Of babies and adults
Loads of plastic
It’s all part
Of the job
Recyclable things
To be separated
And given
But if they don’t
He has to
Put them apart
The smelly stuff
In the green bins
Thank God
They give him
But all are
Not so fortunate

There’s a lift
But he cannot
With the others
More fortunate than him
Or they may
The stink
Of their own garbage
The bins laid down
In neat rows
The organic composted
The recyclables loaded
On the municipal trucks
But still his work 
Is not done
The compound
The lobbies too
The lifts cleaned
With perfumed Spray
Now it’s time 
For rest
He now goes
To kind people’s
To collect leftovers
Some fresh
Some stale
That might give him
A bad stomach
He takes it all
And shares it
As in of old
They break the bread
He’s finally gone
He’s retired
Comes once in a while
To visit my maid
Who gave him money
For the pao
When we had
Chicken curry
I miss him so
Is that because
The new guy
Won’t take 
My leftover 
Chicken curry?

My conscious pricks
When the leftovers
Are eaten
By my dustbin

Oh how good and kind
I used to feel
When he would 
Take with grace
My stale leftover 
Chicken curry 

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