Trimmed with Socks

Uncategorized 1 Minute

Working Title Only ~ Suggestions Welcome

a week of rain and then
we load the line with washing~
the chooks wend between,
so much flap and cackle
and the lined wicker basket sits
trimmed with socks 
on the marble-topped table

later the ruffian west
with its bruises and tuffets 
cools the air to yellow
my arms prickle as
I bring it all back in again
folding and folding
catching the day in fabric pores

I sit amongst piles
holding the fragrance 
on the bed
breathing takes me to childhood again
my mother’s room

the future is only a catnap away
heaving and drying too
who knows if I’m durable~
like denim perhaps
paling knees and frayed hems
and pockets that let slip
the small change

but holding on all the same
like the Xi’an warriors
their wounded clay
and cardamom eyes
secreting the breath
of earth and sun across
two and a half thousand years

Published by abigfatcanofworms

We all walk in the dark. But if we hold hands, perhaps the dark won't be as scary.

Published

16 thoughts on “Trimmed with Socks”

  7. This is so gorgeous. I love the reflection in this particular image:

    “I bring it all back in again
    folding and folding
    catching the day in fabric pores”

    and this:
    “who knows if I’m durable~
    like denim perhaps”

    and the whole of that last stanza is so exciting and unexpected. I want to know more. Your reflection just goes deeper still and where it goes is wonderful. I would submit this somewhere, for sure. Also, I really like Ken’s title The Fabric of Time too! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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