Poet Laureate of the Laundromat

by Rie Sheridan Rose

Poetry full of iridescent imagery

awes my mind.

Words that sing an unknowable cadence

but speak volumes.

Intricate tapestries woven of words

creating miraculous visions...

But they are not my poems.

My poems speak fairy tales,

or slyly offer sarcasm to

prick a pompous bubble.

My poems offer philosophy,

but cracker barrel, not heavenly.

My poems weep remembered tears,

or share forgotten songs.

My poems tell of laundromats,

not Luxembourg.

The pictures they paint

aren't by the numbers,

but they aren't Degas either.

More Norman Rockwell than

Andy Warhol...

I leave surrealism to

those that speak in riddles.

I am a meat and potatoes girl,

uneasy in the banquet hall.

But my poetry is my own,

and to me, it shines like diamonds.

I am poet laureate of the laundromat.

* * * * *

"Poet Laureate of the Laundromat" first appeared in Writer's Café and is part of Rie Sheridan Rose's chapbook Take Out.