Last week, we invited you to fold our laundry. I mean, to fold your own laundry. Okay. We invited you to write poems about laundry. We had no idea we’d touch such a poetic nerve. You wrote loads, baskets, hampers full of laundry poems. You can check them all out in the comments from last week’s post. We’re happy to feature a few here that we especially enjoyed.
Thanks to all for your hands (and poems) that made light work of the week’s laundry. Oh, and we spun all your names in the dryer and drew out the winner of the Scratch Magazine giveaway: Laurie Flanigan. Congratulations, Laurie.
Laundral Impasse
Only walls know how I
laundered by hand and—
by back, arms, by this body—
how little I’ve laundered in compare
to the matròn bunched, swayed
over Riviere Cotes de Fer—
only my one day paused enough
to wonder why I’d relegate
this tactile communion
to a mechanical cube three
times my size when I am muscle,
I am water, I admit dirt hunkers
against the fibers—scrubbing,
wringing—
I have had enough! I sever
myself from the wash of women’s
fortitude that binds us all in
unity. I can take the grace—oh!
and couldn’t I have more?—
my Western wringing has left me
hanging for a generous Wind—
lay me limply, let me fold. I can
claim the four-four measures,
of garments in quadrants if only
to be clothed again. It is a small
preparation I can handle, this dress
over my head—
worn out
twice
(the one that
bares
her knees)
dances on
morning’s
breeze
Dragon
slumber dragon shedding her
calloused scaly skincoat
the days toil worries
wondering writhing
scratching twisting flipping
breaking free
arising at dawn no
memory of the struggle
only a damp tangle of
bedding cast aside to
launder
Want to write poems in a supportive community that is committed to helping you grow and become who you really are? Join our weekly poetry prompts. This month’s theme is Gone Fishing.
Photo by Paul Shen, Creative Commons license via Flickr.
_______________________
The most beautiful and convenient way to read a poem a day
Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99
LW Willingham
Latest posts by LW Willingham (see all)
- Take Your Poet to Work Day! - July 17, 2019
- Take Your Poet to Work Day: W. S. Merwin - July 10, 2019
- Take Your Poet to Work Day: Mary Oliver - July 4, 2019
SimplyDarlene says
Such fun!
Thanks for including a Darlene ditty here. 🙂
michelle ortega says
Thanks for the inclusion! It’s awesome to be in such great company 😉
Laurie Flanigan says
Thank you for the magazine and the prolific prompt. These poems are wonderful! 🙂
Marcy says
I’m so happy for all the winners.
Christine Guzman says
One more laundry poem – inspired by my son’s overloading the dryer – and the resulting sounds and moves:
The Dryer’s Complaint
The dryer went rickety-tick, rickety-tack,
you can’t treat me like that!
You’ve overloaded me,
stuffed me to capacity
it’s too much laundry
for a dryer to spin and dry,
rickety-tick, rickety-tack
you are overloading me
you can’t treat me like that!
It started to refuse: no more socks and shoes,
pants, shirts and sweaters, underwear too.
It needed to escape from its place on the floor,
then losing its balance, it spun out of control.
The dryer starting doing somersaults,
back-flips, upside down handstands too
it was moving so much
it went down the hall, then out the door
out on the street,
then just like the balls
that never know when to stop,
it kept rolling in somersaults
down the hill
until it hit a bump
and came to a full stop.
The door opened wide
the clothing were now free
to wander in the world
to be where they wanted to be.
The song of the dryer stayed in their memory:
Rickety-tick, Rickety-tack, you can’t treat me like that!