I agree with your thought about “delicates” here. It’s too damn frilly to be clowning around with those cowboy hands anyway. It seems a bit too silly. I’ll work out another word or two there. But my real problem with this stanza was the rhyme. I struggles with why it’s there. It was accidental, and to me it sticks out like a hitchhiker’s thumb. Since there is no other rhyming in the piece, should I take it out?

Also, the “mourning” pun was taken out in the first edit. I just used the expected setting. My audience is far from stupid and can connect the dots themselves. With your comments I’m thinking perhaps the Solomon line is a bit out of place, and perhaps I could add another stanza about the “bits”.

Now about the “bits”. since this piece is obstensibly about doing laundry, while discussing the dissolution of a relationship/cohabitation, would adding non clothing bits diffuse the impact of the piece?

Just food for thought and hopefully discussion.

I like the idea of the process being somewhat tranparent here.

Thanks for giving me the kick in the pants that got a good poem out of me for a change.

You start off very nicely, and I was looking forward to hearing about other “bits of us.” When you start with something like, “You wouldn’t believe…” it sets up, I think, a real expectation. Which then isn’t fulfilled, really, since the rest of the piece, after the first stanza, doesn’t give us any more pieces.

I think the “mourning” pun is unnecessary.

“Take the black from blues” is a great line.

I like the thought behind “delicates,” but you just gave us “bused knuckles” and jeans and salt… all pretty gritty images, which is at odds with the kinda dainty word “delicates.” I’d rather know a specific — bra, panties, boxers — because it would be, I think, more in keeping with the very personal nature of this.

The fourth stanza is perfect.

And I really like the last stanza; the image of taking this personal stuff, this history, after a round with mechanical beatings, and leaving it out for the storm winds to ruffle. Nice.

I almost wonder if you need those first two stanzas. If you start with, “I’m rubbing salt…” that’s a good, hard, real line. And since I don’t get any additional “bits” anyway….

Lovely, overall. Glad to see something new from you.

So I’ll post it here. Any feedback, no matter how brusque is appreciated.

Wash time in the house of evening

You wouldn’t believe the bits of us
I’ve found under chairs, thrown
over the backs of doors, forgotten
at the back of kitchen drawers, tangled
inside sheets at the foot of the bed.

Everything’s gray in mourning
Who can tell dark from light
yours from mine
I haven’t art to tear it
clean down the middle
some washwater Solomon
You know, I’m not that wise.

I’m rubbing salt on denim
with busted knuckles
to lighten the stain,
before the soap, to soak
take the black from blues
Just let me touch
your delicates
I’ll do the same for you.

All our issued articles
take their turn in centrifuge
agitate, thump, and spin,
rattle trap and drown
then dragged out
quarrelous snakes
intertwined and sinking
fangs from history’s crush

I fold me into perfect square
to mock and better fit
into boxes off shipping docks
your tossed over familiar lines
snapping at the bluster
of stormcloud winds while
the house of evening
finally falls.