one of my readers suggested this lovely book ‘Washing Lines’ a collection of poems – all the poems have something to do with washing and laundry reflecting many human emotions to do with family, relationships and memory.
I stop Writing the Poem
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
or who dies, I’am 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.