MEMORIES OF THREE OR FOUR
I remember being nestled
in that old ranch kitchen
deep in the warmth of washday Monday
The Maytag’s liquid sounds mixing
with the gentle driving chugs
of the little gas engine
Sloshing and chugging sloshing and chugging
as I curled up beside it
in the great pile of laundry
rich with the smells of the people I loved
Half asleep half awake I floated there
all my senses safely cradled and warmed
and part of a rhythm and a sound
like a heartbeat in a womb