I couldn't think of a proper list, so resorted to the 'look around, take the first thing you see to your right' approach. Which happened to be my laundry basket, so laundry it is.
DAY 9: LAUNDRY LIST
Uniqlo
Relaco ¾ loose pants, four pairs (navy, grey stripes, olive green, white
sakura-on-yellow)
Akemi
bedsheets, two (blue seashells, white streptococci on black)
Assorted
underwear (nude and black except for one zig-zag white-on-dusky rose bikini
bottom, relic of a rebellious wish for colour and sunshine against skin)
Socks
(black, colourful, tweedy, running threadbare at heels and toes)
Uniqlo
tunics and tops (Basquiat, Keith Haring, plain grey, black – work-ready, ubiquitous,
effortless)
Lingering
scraps of resentment in pockets, caught on hooks and eyes, snagged onto linings
Gossamer
depression, fine as spider-lace (so light at times you barely know it’s there)
Thick
burlap-brooding depression (extinguishes everything like an asbestos fire
blanket)
Deferred
dreams, fibres pulped into ragged washi-like fragments that stick to everything and anything (impossible to get off)
Strands
of cat fur twisted up with strands of hair twisted up with woolly-fuzz cat
purrs
Misshapen
lint rolls of sleep, fluff-teased and nebulous at the edges
Jagged
sparks of stress static-electricity crackling everywhere
Film
of tiredness over everything (slightly gritty, pernicious as cat fur and dust, won't wash out)
Elusive
filaments of happiness (but happiness is a filament coated with diamond dust,
it cuts through almost everything)
13 comments:
Oh, this line: "
Lingering scraps of resentment in pockets, caught on hooks and eyes, snagged onto linings"
Especially those first six words....
These deserve to ne in a psychology handbook:
Gossamer depression, fine as spider-lace (so light at times you barely know it’s there)
Thick burlap-brooding depression (extinguishes everything like an asbestos fire blanket)
This describes (too) many days of my life all too well:
Film of tiredness over everything (slightly gritty, pernicious as cat fur and dust, won't wash out)
Angela! Thank you so much! <3 To be honest, if someone had told me that depression could FEEL like those things, and that it wasn't WRONG to feel like that, I might have come to terms with things a looooot earlier than I did.
I think all my clothes have lingering resentment embedded in the fibres by now...
What an absolute gem of a poem! Angela picked out all the lines I wanted to highlight, so I won’t repeat, just know, Shuku, that I am delighted
Thank you so much Barbara! I'm so glad you enjoyed it - tonight was a fuzzybrain night so maybe it's time for bed...
But this is wonderful! I love the idea of throwing our emotions into the laundry too. Like in South Pacific "I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair" (my daughter and I were singing that the other night, we started with songs from West Side Story and just kept going...)
Also just the idea of a laundry list has so many associations. Well done, all around.
I really enjoy the way this poem leads us from the underwear to what we wear under our skin and how happiness cuts through everything
Not sure why this is showing as LA West(?) it is me Christopher Perry 😳
Kerfe: South Pacific! I hadn't even thought of that song but you're right...now I'm singing it too!
Chris: Well then now we know! The Superhero generator of the Universe has given you a SuperSekritIdentity :)
I'll echo others about the great lines--this one stood out: "Lingering scraps of resentment in pockets, caught on hooks and eyes, snagged onto linings." But being the "cock-eyed optimist"--to get in another South Pacific reference--I'm also pleased to know that the diamond dust of love cuts through everything. :)
Now singing along with you, Kerfe, and her daughter. . .
Merril, thank you so much! *yowls BALI HAAAAI at the top of her lungs* It's kind of infectious isn't it, all the South Pacific songs...
I love how this post ends up being a party :) :) :)
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