Emilde and Zahra speak

the language of servants,

seat us at their table,

procure bread and butter, tea.

The household help

eye us, invaders.

They hardly know

invaders, though.

I watch for one who might believe me,

relay a message to the duchess.

I’m rallying the courage to ask

the last one in the kitchen

as the candles are extinguished.

Then she speaks.

When you’ve had your fill

you’ll bed down in the stables.

Be gone by dawn, you hear?

This ain’t no home for strays.