Sunday, March 20, 2016

"Mid-week": a Poem by Pat Anthony

The Clothes-Line
"The Clothes-Line" by Helen Allingham

What lingered was the smell–
the I can’t quite identify it– of
laundry hung across the kitchen
or was it laundry fresh from the
clotheslines, each creased towel
like a pinched sachet, loosing sun
and wind, flowers of the moment?

It came on the wind yesterday,
while I was bending over blue
berries and pulling aside the brown
mounds of last season’s grasses to
find each budding shoot and re-
arrange the coffee cans to shield
them from browsing deer in this

predicted chill. I stopped to breathe,
but couldn’t be sure if it was the scent
of soil clinging to my boots or crab
apples’ bloom from the next farm over
or someone’s laundry hanging on a
thread of memory, freshly gathered,
creased into billets-doux, lingering. 


  1. Beautiful poem. I like the last verse, especially those words,
    "Someone's laundry hanging on a thread of memory...

    Thanks for sharing.

    1. My pleasure. Thank you very much for the comment, Jacqueline.

  2. A very nice read with my morning coffee. :)