I Stop Writing the Poem
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
or who dies, I'm still a woman.
I'll always have plenty to do.
I bring the arms of his shirt
together. Nothing can stop
our tenderness. I'll get back
to the poem. I'll get back to being
a woman. But for now
there's a shirt, a giant shirt
in my hands, and somewhere a small girl
standing next to her mother
watching to see how it's done.
: : : : : :
good poems travel through time and space to find you, but they find you--if you're listening. Really!
this one found me like a heat-seeking missile. it walked me through years of my life, including the days of standing by my mom's ironing board listening to michael jackson or watching sesame street. and then later, as a newlywed when i told bim, i don't iron men's shirts. do you know how? he did. now we have them dry cleaned, but i still do all the other laundry. i've always enjoyed laundry.
nothing wrong with warm, clean clothes.
2 of you said:
I will trade you the ironing for the laundry. Deal?
happily. guess what? i bought an ironing board today.
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