A poem in the Pantoum form
for Barbara
We’re washing up together, once again.
Her long red nails encased in rubber gloves.
This happy yellow moment, its own feast
of suds and words, pots and relationships.
Her long red nails encased in rubber gloves
attempt to lengthen beauty amidst life
of suds and words, pots and relationships.
We talk of how to care for Farberware,
attempt to lengthen beauty amidst life
of boilings, steamings, washings. At this sink
we talk of how to care for Farberware.
We wash by hand. She tells me that is best.
Of boilings, steamings, washings at this sink,
we reminisce, through cleansing become friends.
We wash by hand. She tells me that is best.
Immersed in memories, awash in kin,
we reminisce, through cleansing become friends.
Years later, she is gone and I remain
immersed in memories, awash in kin;
my Farberware and I, enduring still.
Each boiling, steaming, washing at this sink
we’re washing up together, once again.
This happy yellow moment, its own feast.
My Farberware and I, enduring still.
– Lisa
Selected from Smallest Leaf: A Collection of Poetry. Available for purchase at the online store of smallestleaf.com.
