Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Zen of Laundry



Women's work, she irons,
smoothing the wrinkles-
making limp now crisp
starches and sizing.
The smell of
hot linen is like incense
and a balm to her nerves,
brings calm to her hands.
Hands that flutter like birds
wring at each other savagely
and reach for old habits.

Hiss of hot steam rising
she presses down,
as seamless sleeves
take on new store creases.
Buttons spread wide
for the hot metal penis intruder
smoothing the wrinkles between them.
A cuff, a collar, minor details,
hems that won't lie flat.

A creaking wooden board stands
waiting at attention,
its constant companion cold and quiet now;
but hot and hissing is
a thing alive.
A seeking, steaming intruder
Waiting for the call
of the wrinkled, the limp
and the woman with the restless hands.

2 comments:

Brian Miller said...

there is def zen in laundry...smiles...its in being aware of the world and it slows us to that point as well...dont tell my wife but i enjoy doing laundry...

J Cosmo Newbery said...

I can see it. I can smell it. I can hear it.