Everyone is long gone, so these days
laundry days are infrequent.
I wait on a basement step.
The dryer ticks and cools while I fold,
my warm shirts stir the musty air–
A rush in the pipes startles the silence.
"Hello?" I ask the joists.
Have I forgotten I have a family upstairs
scrubbing boots, drawing baths,
blotting blood from knees, from pants?
But the dog naps knowing no one is there.
It is only the dishwasher cycle
that has sent the ghosts of children and men
running through the walls.
– Teresa Kiplinger
...
Photo: Nolan Issac via Unsplash
Love the art of your jewelry. We’ll done!!!!! I’m an artist who came to jewelry late & always stressed the why of art that you do so well!!!
I love the sad beauty of your poem.
ACHE.. beauty & other things
All my dwellings sweetly live on, whispering of times gone by, bookmarking the spirit of my youth and the passage of time.
so spirit reminiscent
OMG! No words to describe how this hits me – simply a GASP!
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