Today is laundry day
a full hamper of open
wounds to cleanse;
one beating heart
slashed, sutured, slashed again,
pumping out its tender pulse,
an open chest, the dab, dab, dab
of the moist muslin used
most nights to wipe away the tears,
wrapped ‘round the forefinger
dab, dab, dab at the serrated edges,
plucking out small vocabulary shards,
flash card fish nibbling at already swollen skin,
cleaning abrasive to these wounds
remembered moments, slivers,
cold metallic words
lodged, festering beneath the ribs
keeping still this stagnant place.
But today is laundry day,
a day to scrub clean
these carved canyons leaking pain
to hang this heart out on the line
pegged in the wind
poised for change.
June 2006
I really enjoyed this, there's a harsh honesty about it, with added hope too. Just don't forget to add a wee bit of fabric softener! :) Hugs Anna xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awh, another brutally demanding piece, such a stark poet we have here. Well done David. S.S.Sandok