Laundry, Chute!

 

A shrill alarm sounds in the hall, then still and quietness.

I rush toward the siren call, to rescue my red dress.

 

The latch released, I close my eyes then lunge into the dark,

to free the poly-cottons from the hot breath of the shark.

 

I dump them on the top of an ever-growing pile,

of jeans and towels and T-shirts that have waited for a while.

 

The dryer’s empty now, and while it’s growing cold,

Prepared to beat the mountain, I finally start to fold.

 

The wash-cloths are so easy, being tiny, square and neat.

But I almost lose my patience when I wrestle with the sheets.

 

“I am finished!” is my cry as I tackle the last frock.

The giant hill has dwindled to a mismatched pair of socks.

 

But victory is brief for as I turn to leave,

Peeking from the hamper is a little bit of sleeve.

 

                                                                             —-Robin Prince Monroe