A poem penned in 1984 while sitting in a laundromat
Wash day
He remembers wash day as a child
When everyone would gather at the river with their bundles
When everyone would gather at the river with their bundles
The women - laughing over private jokes
Worked diligently with their family clothing
Tender hands on precious cloth
Water and stones and trees and fires
And the men, hunkered in circles
Exchanged stories and news
While the children tended the horses
And shrieked in tumbling play
It was a sharing day - a happy day
It was a sharing day - a happy day
Not much time has passed
Since we began to use these places
Where we haul our baskets and plastic baggage
Shove coins into machines
That slurp and roar
Metal and motors and florescent lights
We bring our wash once a week
To idly stand and watch it all slog clean on its own
To idly stand and watch it all slog clean on its own
Too noisy for words
We keep to ourselves and avert our eyes
And think our own thoughts
The children, regarded as nuisance
Are made to hush in their play
It’s a tedious day - a lonely day
No comments:
Post a Comment