Poetry

I found the picture that inspired this poem so I am resharing the poem with the picture. It is old, and grainy, but you can see my bonnet and shoes:TW:

You slipped the shirt over my head

and stained

with filth

my skin.

Your dirty laundry

tainted my white flowered skirt.

My white laced socks

covered in your dirt.

I bathe in the sun

to cleanse your sin

Until your dirty laundry

Comes round again.

I scrub and I scrub

in the steam I can finally breathe.

You drape me in your rancid towel.

How will I ever become clean.

My Easter bonnet

tied under my neck.

I sit on the back church pew.

I listen to the choir

as I bounce my patten leather shoes.

My mother in her flower dress , my father in his suit.

 

I lay in my bed

I can see the cold

blowing through the trees.

I plot my escape from your lies

that keep catching up to me.

I wonder when did it start,

your long list of dirty laundry.

Was it before or after church

on an Easter Sunday.

10 thoughts on “Poetry

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