Alice wears a red apron and washes dishes in an enamel sink. A lock of hair flops her forehead. She curls the strand back and watches chickens scratch the yard.

A theater of still voices listen the scrape clink rinse water whoosh escape the window. Children. Clumps of children shining shoes with red cloths. Close by, a shy sky blue door with white trim frames a pink taffeta robe lounging about a teal radio. Cigarette smoke drifts and drags words out of Alice.

She calls to the robe. “Only high fashion illustrations clean windows with no dirt!”

Shudder shudder the children shudder and mutter how marvelous mother Alice’s tea crumpets taste after hours of shining shoes with red cloths.

Taffeta Robe unmutes the radio with cigarette fingers.

The children shine on, fast faster, cardinal cloths aflutter. A rooster flaps. A horse bolts. A dog white with dust sits in the road, looking right.

Blue. Blue coats trudge from the field. A ruckus of women. Workers, carts full with shoes dug from the earth.

A winter woman lobs high a candy apple stiletto.

Alice fills the kettle with music left unheard and adds a wee note of spilt milk.