Drying weather
By shoe
- 2197 reads
The day came quiet, the promise of heat
knocking the breath out of it. stealing
into this early stillness;
barley spreads it's satin counterpane
you could reach out and smooth the ripples
with the span of your hands
big-bellied cows lift their faces into the breeze
-making me part of the herd-
God must love me
drying weather, mother called it
pegging out sheets
boiled to bone, scoured of tears
blood, bile and every other sin
furling and snapping, stinking of bleach
until sun baked stiff, she'd bring them in
not carefully; coal grimed fingers
soft grey ash from a crumpled browning fag
and old, old dirt seamed in her knuckles
folding them, folding again until
they are small and tight as bandages
dirty marks concealed in folds
within folds, stacked on dusty slats
crushed back into their permitted space
you'd think people couldn't guess
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Comments
This poem reminded me of my
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What a fantastically clear
TVR
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I've often thought we can
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Lovely scene shoe. Really
Parson Thru
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ditto as above and more that
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Beautiful. I love references
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Wonderful stuff, shoe.
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You paint a real picture,
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