A Press of Towels
Posted: Wed Sep 20, 2006 2:40 pm
A Press of Towels
There's washing to be done...
The day drags
from cloud to cloud
on a burden of numb
and listless.
Apathy runs riot
and there's washing to be done...
I have to grieve,
to bury the dead
to find a quiet place
and sleep off
the thoughts of inadequacy
and there's washing to be done.
Every image turns
in my head
to pictures of him
when I last saw him -
blue lipped, gasping,
trimmed beard and dull eyed
And there's washing to be done.
The day is insistent,
a bleak grey and white frame
rich in sighs
and this intolerable loss.
I gather up
an armful of towels.
There's washing to be done...
The day drags
from cloud to cloud
on a burden of numb
and listless.
Apathy runs riot
and there's washing to be done...
I have to grieve,
to bury the dead
to find a quiet place
and sleep off
the thoughts of inadequacy
and there's washing to be done.
Every image turns
in my head
to pictures of him
when I last saw him -
blue lipped, gasping,
trimmed beard and dull eyed
And there's washing to be done.
The day is insistent,
a bleak grey and white frame
rich in sighs
and this intolerable loss.
I gather up
an armful of towels.