First I thought I might be a clothes horse
Galloping through the mall.
Captured by all the beautiful displays
And I gaze, amazed
So many colours to absorb as if
I were in an eastern market drowning
In exotic flavours
A voice said:
‘You’re a bit too fat for that’
Then I am liquid warm and
Begin to boil over with shame
Bubbling like a cappuccino till
I can’t think straight. My head
Is so light and frothy.
I move to and fro
Just go, go, go and never slow
Don’t mind the drips of me
Over the floor, out the door
Into this ever-changing world.
Here in the sun, the cold, the rain
I am lost to the elements
No, perhaps I'm saved as they
Forcefully bring me
Into sharp contrast with
My own minuteness
Caught between the forces
Of nature and technology
Like love and the science of washing powder.
An old woman passes by
Her grizzled features
Hide a girlish smile and for a
Fleeting second our lives coincide,
Form a union of understanding
That such generations have always communicated.
In the mutual silence between us,
I recognize this space, this place made for me,
The washer.
Once I was shiny and new
I evoked so much excitement and
It felt nice to be admired by others.
Somewhere at the back of a drawer
You might find a dog-eared guarantee with
My name on it but it doesn’t matter.
Not anymore.
Too many rinses and soakings
To remember I was ever a top model.
Like the constant stream of news,
I’ve been shaped and changed
Along with all the world.
One can never look or feel like yesterday
Again.
You see, there was simply loads to do
It's true.
Always something needed right now.
Later, when the house was quiet
I was so washed out, there was
no energy left to speak
The seasons passed in cycles
And I went through so many of them
Myself
Sometimes flooding so hard,
I passed out.
Helplessly caught in a constant spin,
Nobody heard my cries for help.
Don’t bother us with your messes.
I rocked back and forth
Back and forth
Alone.
Losing parts is the natural course
Go ahead, stand back and
Notice how time takes its toll.
I’ve been scratched so badly,
Finger me if you want.
Dented all over, the rust is eating me
From the inside out.
My nuts and bolts rattle so loud
That folk complain so the door is
Often closed to keep
My noise down yet
Having a screw loose isn’t something
To be embarrassed about;
Not when you're me.
Perhaps the tales I have
Collected are interesting.
Laughing children, soapy accidents
Loose coins, buttons and clips.
Remember when the Good News Bible fell apart?
Major blockage for the whole family!
The gradual change in sounds as we each
Grew, aged.
Some left, some died.
Everybody’s dirty laundry has passed
Through me, the trusted one,
The one who bears every load
Because I am pre-programmed
Always to put others before me.
I'd like to say something though.
Today I cough and sputter
You can’t flip my switch
Turn my dial
Press my buttons
The only sound to be heard is
A tired old groan because at
This late stage, I’m completely run down
So you tell everyone my day has arrived
Yes, at last. Through the linting and laundering
Through the intimacies of life, it’s time
For me
This old wreck
To speak out.
I am on the roadside where
A council truck approaches like a
Funeral cortege playing Kintail
My purpose has no meaning
And meaning has no purpose.
In my dilapidated state I ponder
My inner workings, why they no longer matter, how
Constant cycles of removing filth
Still end up in dirt.
Here I wait,
Stripped of my protective steel armour
A bowed frame of my former glorious self.
Finally I actualize like Maslow
I am wreckage
Without sound
Beautifully silent
Ready to be crushed.
