Why do Italian mothers clean until their hands bleed?

My mother,

cleaning the kitchen, 

plastic covered couches

untouched in an unused living room

We won’t stay here,

but she scrubs until the floors are

clean of the blood and sweat 

until every inch of my father is gone 

And when we get to America,

She’ll bleach the counters like she’s

Cleaning up a crime scene

Until every inch of immigrant is gone

And we will survive this

and I might forget this

but she will never stop cleaning.

Her couches will always stay covered.

By Anonymous