Friday, November 30, 2007

Laundry

How did we beat the rock
to rinse from our skins
the days toils
to hunt and stretch more skins,
wanderer of lands, hunters
of the means of existence
aside brother, mother, son, or not,
all family of survival?

How did we scrub the cloth that clothed us;
in tubs on boards,
stretched out on glowing days
to catch sweet breezes
kissed by lavender and rose,
the same day as our neighbor,
shared baskets of time and space,
gossip and companionship?

A lost hour and a half,
forced by comforters and blankets
to stand alone
in a crowded laundry mat.
Machines horded with
hampers standing sentinel,
ancient rituals forgotten
to our invisible bubbles
that never touch.

Private worlds crammed
into front loading washers,
slaves to necessity,
woolen grime of poverty,
heavy blankets of shame,
baked in glass ovens,
sanitizing autoclaves.

Eyes that never rise
above the turning worlds within
to see our world around.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I know I'm not. Just a simple melancholy moment, registered trademark of yours truly. Besides, it was semi-fictional. As is most of my stuff. But you know that.
Little Sister.

p.s. Sorry about the movie. I will make it up to you....Maybe next time we're out together, I'LL DRIVE! lol