Lori Boulard

001 An Old Mother's Wash - Poem by Lori Boulard

Only she knows the ritual's worth-
the tactile truth of scrubbed
and spun generations in cloth.
Neatly folded squares of mother
and child in wicker on the stair.

It all comes out in the wash;
an old wives' tale indeed.
Spring greens and summer reds
bleach clean into the runoff, but
sins and joy fuse to fibers
remaining as traces in the weave,
interlocked until the moths gain ground,
the patterns of family tattooed
to wool and broken bone.

Comments about 001 An Old Mother's Wash by Lori Boulard

  • (11/15/2006 9:05:00 AM)

    A word painting of a great human being. You are a keen observer of life. Thank you for sharing.

    Kindest regards,


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  • Tailor Bell (11/5/2006 8:55:00 AM)

    completely agree with Brian and David...deep captivating work. superb read. -Tailor (Report)Reply

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  • Brian Dorn (10/17/2006 3:19:00 PM)

    Wow, great write, Lori... very profound!

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Poem Submitted: Friday, October 13, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, October 16, 2010

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