The Voice Of The Laundry Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The voice of the laundry says
When are you going to wash me?
The dust on the side of the stairs
Pleads hoover me up

The windows cry for attention in the sunlight
Wanting a willing duster to restore clarity

At night I hear the grass outside in the evening
It's wailing: cut me, cut me, cut me
It's tangled, rank & hot

I am turning a deaf ear to the gods of the household
I will not listen to supplications said
Dust, grass, washing, ironing, keep shtum
This house will be here long after I am dead