Thursday, June 08, 2006

The Fabric of My Life

As a child, there were wrinkles in my dresses.
Laundry was starched, kept damp, ironed.
Made for a much tidier presentation.

As soon as the heat from the iron dissipated,
The wrinkles were on their way back.
It was pretty obvious that I was unkempt.

You can never really keep a dress neat.
If it is cotton, and mine were, it will crease.
Creases don’t come out easily.

Starch it, sprinkle it, iron it.
No matter what, not crisp.
I was a rumpled child.

I remember when perma-press came along.
Amazing substance. No starching needed.
Dry it, wear it. It seemed like a cheat to me.

My mom loved perma-press.
She was overworked and under-helped.
Perma-press smoothed over a lot of things.


I like cotton. I like it just the way it comes.
Doesn’t need dye to be pretty.
If it wrinkles, I am plain ok with that.

My wrinkles are not only on dresses.
I show them on my face.
They highlight my eyes and my mouth

My husband loves my mouth
And I love my eyes.
There is truth to be seen in both.

I often wear a rumpled white shirt.
I love the feel of the cotton close to me.
The wrinkles just feel familiar and comfy.

3 comments:

  1. I am gray,
    value sized.
    I stretch,
    and can be tied,
    and often am.
    I stay up better that way.
    To protect the unexposed.
    Wash and wear.
    Washed and worn.
    Cotton-poly blend.
    Is it her man,
    Or his favorite pair of shorts?
    She does not see a difference,
    and I will not tell.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wrinkles remind me of small scars, signs of many things: battle, growth, honor, grace...

    ReplyDelete
  3. It makes me smile with such warmth, reading how the last line carries the flow of the poem back to its beginning.

    You see so much in what surrounds you; and you share so graciously as a poet. ^_^

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

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