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Introduction
Her washing
machine has broken down and this pampered lass must face the trauma of doing
her laundry in public...
Lament
of the Washerwoman
Not
blaze of glory, but mere faint hiss
heralds the ancient one's demise.
Alas, no fix this time, so quotes the handyman.
O, mute cadaver, beyond all salvage now,
how I didst cherish thee,
thou washer of my clothes.
Only those of lavish means replace
machines the day they break,
so hie away to the laundromat!
My skin, it prickles so from fear:
the curious crush of humanity there
shall view my dirty laundry
and find hilarious my tatty knickers.
Yea, I hear their snickers even now.
My hungry brood shall beg for alms
and I, sans tart reply, shall lose
all coinage to the greedy horde.
They'll shriek in glee and speed away
to the depths of junk food hell
whilst I shall sit all day and spin.
Copyright;
Laurel
Kirkwood
Email:
laureljeanne@ivillage.com
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