Write what you know

Write what you know

He said.

I said

And what do I know.


I rake through dirty washing.

Sift socks and laddered tights.

Fold towels. Sort shirts.

And bin the too-torn and the too-worn and dream.


My Mother said, when asked

A clean shite n spoon-feed fur a livin’

I’ve inherited the family trade.


And though I love the smell of wind-blasted clothes

I never get to the bottom of that basket


What words would I find there

Amongst the odd socks and dirty knickers?


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