thursday morning

 

while stuffing quarters in dryers and washers

a young mother holds her baby and

screams at her two year-old son

who darts around the laundry baskets

as two men slam and rock and kick the

reluctant soap dispenser while

an older man waits outside

head bowed, hands clasped

on the top of his car and back inside

a young father lifts his little daughter

into a laundry basket and unloads

trash bags of dirty clothes into washers

while talking to another guy

beneath the sign on the wall —

“NO FIREARMS ALLOWED ON PREMISES”

about his friend driving while stoned

killed someone on a bicycle

 

 

Published by

sanberdooboy

I've been writing mostly poetry for many years and have gotten a number of works accepted in publications and anthologies. I'm most interested in communicating with poets for whom craft is a high priority. I enjoy finding and commenting on poetic gems in other people's work. For my own work, I welcome polite comments, whether positive or critical.

21 thoughts on “thursday morning”

  1. … while another sits cross-legged on the couch, Sunday morning, first cup of coffee reading watching it all unfold on the screen of a laptop computer. This is so vivid. And loaded with untold stories… and as one who spent years as one (or several of the characters) rich in memories. We all have different tastes in poetry, but for me, this has everything I look for. Good morning Michael.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Lines of King Lear come to mind, hope you don’t mind me quoting them …

        Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
        That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
        How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
        Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend you
        From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
        Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
        Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
        That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
        And show the heavens more just.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. thank you, jennifer. when i was a young writer (about 50 years ago), critics used a term “slice of life,” to describe a style of writing. and that describes this poem pretty well, i think.

      Like

    1. i appreciate your kind comments, zoltán. for this poem i simply re-organized my notes i took while in between wash and rinse cycles at the laundromat. i’m glad you see it as an american scene, which is one thing that made the subject interesting to me.

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  2. I agree…great American scene. I can see the 2-year-old darting around and the frazzled mom. I spent a lot of time in laundromats when I was little and also have a poem about a laundry lady. I still use the term, “slice of life,” also. Great poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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