They meant well
with their casseroles
and photo books
but the walls
closed in
as the hole
in our lives
grew bigger
and bigger
and life went on
day after day
till Saturday’s laundry
revealed the brandy
now on ice
like Momma’s
smile
so plastered
on.
Tag Archive | laundry
2/15/10 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Twitterized
Twittertized
My laundry pile
does not discriminate,
sorting itself into black or white.
I throw it in together
spinning my life
into gray.
Where my water goes
as it flows down the drain,
I do not care.
Where my sins flow
as they leave my lips,
my fingertips,
I do not know.
If water can cleanse the soul
of sins unspoken,
I need a fail whale,
an overcapacity sign.
12/26/09 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Ashes to Ashes
Ashes to Ashes
There is a tiredness
that is dying with me
and I long
for a dumpster
to toss it away,
but it has settled
itself upon my shoulders,
and won’t let go.
If I had any energy
at all,
I would be scrubbing out
the refrigerator,
or mopping the floor,
or doing the laundry,
but I am just typing,
sitting,
again,
only my fingers moving.
Later, when friends ask,
“How did you
manage to write a book?”
I will be as surprised
as they are,
while kicking dust bunnies
under my chair.
9/08/09 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections
Accent Shifted To A Weaker Beat
A beat can be split
into two steps
like the main syncopation
in cha – cha.
We have no conductor,
no drummer,
to help us keep in step,
yet there a dance in the way
I carry laundry to the dryer,
passing you with electrical cords
on your way to the garage.
There is a soft repetition
of your kisses on my forehead,
merging with the melody
of my messages on the fridge.
There is a rhythm to our love,
the beat of our days together,
but if you want the band to play
our song,
neither of us can name it.