i was twenty,
home from school one weekend
for hugs and home-cooked food
down the dark staircase leading to the kitchen
for water
i saw the light under the laundry room door
so i went
across the tile floor
bare feet still pink from the shower
over loose dirt from my father's construction site
i pressed myself against the door as tight as a i dared
she was in front of the dryer,
pulling clothes out by the handful -
my dad's work shirt, her weekend sweats, socks,
the basic training shirt my brother gave me when he left
i watched her
hold it in her hands
pull it against her chest
curl around its warmth
the way she curled around my brother
that afternoon
she
inhaled slowly
unfolded
turned the shirt inside out
one sleeve over the other
then
placed it in my pile
so i went
back across the kitchen floor
no cool glass of water in my sweating palms
but a burning wetness pooling in my eyes
i put it on in the morning
still warm
as if she took it to bed
held it all night long
the way she held him when he was born
small
pale
sickly
wide-eyed
she spends the morning with her hands
on my shoulders
********* the cotton fabric
as if it's fading with every passing moment
she calls me by his name
i don't question the long hug goodbye
but i start saving laundry to bring home for her
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 1:41 PM UTC
i was twenty,
home from school one weekend
for hugs and home-cooked food
down the dark staircase leading to the kitchen
for water
i saw the light under the laundry room door
so i went
across the tile floor
bare feet still pink from the shower
over loose dirt from my father's construction site
i pressed myself against the door as tight as a i dared
she was in front of the dryer,
pulling clothes out by the handful -
my dad's work shirt, her weekend sweats, socks,
the basic training shirt my brother gave me when he left
i watched her
hold it in her hands
pull it against her chest
curl around its warmth
the way she curled around my brother
that afternoon
she
inhaled slowly
unfolded
turned the shirt inside out
one sleeve over the other
then
placed it in my pile
so i went
back across the kitchen floor
no cool glass of water in my sweating palms
but a burning wetness pooling in my eyes
i put it on in the morning
still warm
as if she took it to bed
held it all night long
the way she held him when he was born
small
pale
sickly
wide-eyed
she spends the morning with her hands
on my shoulders
********* the cotton fabric
as if it's fading with every passing moment
she calls me by his name
i don't question the long hug goodbye
but i start saving laundry to bring home for her