Monday, February 4, 2013

Walking the laundry

Walking the dog
Doing the laundry
Scraping shit out of the deep grooves
In the soles of their shoes

I warned them to stay off the grass
Quite rightly they ignored me
Stomping through the fresh mud and shit
With abandon

Beef strips turning grey from a never made stir fry
A tub of ricotta unopened from October 20 something
Hurled into the trash, reminders that
My own use by date is no longer an abstraction

The growing mountain of dirty towels
At the top of the stairs
Threaten to bury me
Unceremoniously

The very idea of being mummified
By my own poor housekeeping
Makes me laugh
Until I cry

Closing the door on the chaos
In a cafe, safe from the laundry and dog shit
A place where nobody asks me for anything
More complex than the sports section or a chair











1 comment:

  1. Am feeling you, Sister :) Only a handful of school days in and in the glorious, silent solitude I can barely bring myself to do the mandatory minimum. I just want everyone, and the dishes, to leave me alone for perhaps a week.

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