Laundress
Given over to love,
she un-balls the socks,
lets fall debris of days,
leaf litter, sand grain,
slub of some sticky substance,
picks it all for the sake
of the stainless tub
of the gleaming new front loader.
Given over to love long ago, when her own
exasperated moan bounced off
the quaint speckled enamel
of the top loader
vowing: she'd do this always and well.
She fell in love then, she fell in line—
in a march of millions, you pair them,
two by two, you marry the socks.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2017 by Heid E. Erdrich from Curators of Ephemera at the New Museum for Archaic Media, (Michigan State University Press, 2017). Poem reprinted by permission of Heid E. Erdrich and the publisher.