bleached ragged towels, white sheets,
dish towels, cleaning rags, women’s underwear
limp sometimes gray with age, pastel blouses
stiff cotton skirts, Tommy’s briefs & chino pants
flannel shirts, undershirts, handkerchiefs —
the ironing board stands in the kitchen, one aunt
or another looks up & often grumbles before
she moves aside for someone to get from kitchen
to everywhere else — everything just about
needs to be ironed, they iron Grandma’s pale
flower-print shirtwaists — the struggle to work
a dress over Grandma’s head, down her torso
over her hips, lift one hip, then the other to drag
the skirt down & past her knees before the hoist
to the wheelchair for another motionless day
Lily’s friend Miriam irons in the living room
never puts the board away, Miriam a sloven
nothing picked up, dishes not washed from day
to day, Miriam kneads with large knuckled hands
widowed, one child, poor as everyone is poor
she mocks anything & everything, cynical & wise
as if bitter laughter could make life more
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