Laundry piles,
whites prepared to sparkle; coloreds
separated,proud to stand apart.
Towels heaped in their own mound,
competition in their own rights.
Laundress approaches with resistance.
Towels look daunting. More than
one load, for sure. Whites, dotted
with spots need special attention.
She runs the water hot.
Reaches for the bleach, notices a coin
from a pocket. 1972. Her birth year.
War just ended, Uncle back home
with PTSD. Her mother had
done his laundry with care, scrubbed
all the stains. In the end, it really
did not matter. They say a car
hit him by accident, but even a
young child can read between the lines.
Back to the coloreds, holding their own.
Conferences for the stripes. Meetings
for the polka dots. What to do with the
Guatemalan overalls which are sure to
bleed. Fingers the coin and sets it in
a little blue jar on the laundry shelf.
This may be the reward of the day.
June 11.
June 13, 2008 at 6:55 pm
Laundry piles,
whites prepared to sparkle; coloreds
separated,proud to stand apart.
Towels heaped in their own mound,
competition in their own rights.
Laundress approaches with resistance.
Towels look daunting. More than
one load, for sure. Whites, dotted
with spots need special attention.
She runs the water hot.
Reaches for the bleach, notices a coin
from a pocket. 1972. Her birth year.
War just ended, Uncle back home
with PTSD. Her mother had
done his laundry with care, scrubbed
all the stains. In the end, it really
did not matter. They say a car
hit him by accident, but even a
young child can read between the lines.
Back to the coloreds, holding their own.
Conferences for the stripes. Meetings
for the polka dots. What to do with the
Guatemalan overalls which are sure to
bleed. Fingers the coin and sets it in
a little blue jar on the laundry shelf.
This may be the reward of the day.
October 13, 2008 at 1:03 pm
Wow, powerful poem.