Write what you know
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?