Melissa R. Bickel

DOING LAUNDRY

The rollers of a hand cranked
washing machine nearly tugged
my fingers to its jaws.

Yet that dread quickly faded.
Instead, the smell of laundry soap
lingered, scent of lye.  Everything
seemed clean as forgetting.

Mother put the clothes through
twice: washing then rinsing.
Bubbles escaped the cycle,
landed on the freckles of my nose.

The clothesline took the weight
of water and fabric, held the clothes
to the beating sun.  And I ran
wild, blue eyes seeking gaps,
blonde head zigzagging with glee.

Passing breeze held the clothes
horizontal for a moment,
Aladdin’s carpet whisked me
to places far as dreams,
lye and something else
in the air
lingering.

Don't forget your yearly exams, cancer can be a killer.

© Melissa, All rights reserved

I once collected idioms around my mouth;
Though I’d affixed them to parchment,
my ambition was quite noble.

Writing was not for wealth-
not for reverence of any kind.
It was for the gaiety of released words,
which later flocked together in verse.

I knew I’d never gather riches
of a monetary kind, in lieu
I’d collect winsome treasures
when readers traipsed where my nib once reclined.

Psalms 34:18

Jehovah is near to those that are broken at heart; and those crushed in the spirit he saves.

From the last snowfall In Hugo, Oklahoma. Picture is taken by my cousin Pam Bone.