hanging by a thread

I kneel,
Delicately separating
That which needs to be thrown in from
That which needs to be hung out.
Imperceptibly, without warning-
Tears.
Because there’s no reason
Except piles of dirty laundry and a washing machine with too many choices

A spiraling black vortex carries me backwards
To the time before consequences,
My child-self sound asleep in pink gingham.
I kneel,
Invisible beside my mother and watch
Her hands, younger even than my own
Deliberately placing my cotton panties into drawers she
Knows by heart.
She moves so slowly, stops, stares into the darkness-
Tears.
Because there’s no reason
Except a lost childhood and a dresser full of broken dreams.
When all the work is done, my ghost joins her for a smoke on the porch
And we exhale hidden sorrows for the stars and the moon

I spiral up with the wisp and find myself next to a woman I have only
Seen in sepia,
Drowning her only daughter’s one dress in the washtub
Scrubbing violently on the washboard as the sun is setting over the hill.
She looks up vacantly-
Tears.
Because there’s no reason
Except that it will be the same tomorrow and the day after that

She remembers the sea green room where bland food was served with
Those little white pills
And they let you smoke
Undisturbed
With whomever you chose

And somebody else did your laundry

[June 2007]