WENDY HAMMOND
Dirty Laundry

my father's voice
folded me in half
as mom folded towels
into threes

starched and stiff
it hung there
facing the same direction
as his dress shirts

I felt buttoned up
the way I was taught
to fasten the top securely
so the collar would stand-up straight

his tone wrinkled the room
she stacked her thoughts
with the clothes
then put them away like dirty laundry

as I continued to iron the air between them
in silence


© November 1999 Wendy L. Hammond
(all rights reserved; To copy this poem, please contact the poet)
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