Ode to a Clothesline

a short sweet summer poem

I dedicate this to Tonika of Visceral Adventures, my favorite hippie gal. On one of my episodes she commented, with something between envy and despair, how civilized my garden was. I assured her that she had twenty-odd years to catch up to me, if that was what she wanted, because my yard was nothing like this in the thick of raising kids. And this poem is testimony to that. And here is Tonika with my book, that just arrived in her mail!

Ode to a Clothesline

O supple, slippery slope
strung between the lattice 
and the dogwood branch,
how happy you make me!

On chilly days you give reason
to stand in the peak of sun,
exposing my unslathered face. 
Sunbathing is for chumps but 
a clothesline is work with benefits: 
eavesdropping on the buzz, 
itinerant among the day laborers.

When summer evaporates
the drip before it lands, I 
stand between the rows so
the damp, cool sheets lap
my legs as they exhale
their fabric softener scent.

My lawn has gone to the gophers
and become deep meadow.
I don’t mind. I’ve worn a cow path
back to the chicken coop and
made an island of my basket
in the waving sea of grass.
If I drop a pin it’s dead to me.

Some women like a sharp, taut cord
that tells gravity who’s the boss.
Mine smiles and maybe winks,
daring me to hang that wet towel 
in the middle.

O oracle of rain, requiring only
a loaded line left overnight.

If only all industry could be
so copacetic. Wading knee-deep 
in dragon-headed weeds, tossing
undies onto jousting pins with jaunty 
abandon, flying the colorful, clashing 
banner of the chaotic housewife.

---

More poem episodes:

In this episode, I read my poem called Becoming Yeast and talk about prayer and forgiveness. I ask whether two people asking the same question, with more concern for getting the right answer than being right, is a special form of prayer.

For Easter, I read a poem I wrote called Mollusks & Diamonds and explain why WE are rising, re-membering who we are and re-cognizing our Self in each other. We are the Christ and we're re-surrecting because joy is our birthright, without opposite, and life has no death. Resurrection is inclusive and eternally present or not at all.

Happy Birthday! I look at the Christ as a movement, not a person, that's coming into being after 2000 years of dormancy. I read "How Will the World End?" from the teacher's manual of A Course in Miracle. And I end with a poem I wrote called The Holy Dark.