The girl runs up and down the stairs with ease.
Her granny says do this, do that for me.  

The girl brings folded laundry up the stairs,
returns with orders for the broom and pan.  

Now don’t forget the corners and the nooks,
her ancient voice a slither down the stairs,  

be sure to clean that closet out real good
and when you finish that there’s more up here—  

her voice— a craggy marker for the girl,
a stone she cannot move but always hears.