When I have been washed too much

by Frances Gaudiano

                                   
It comes every few years,
That frazzled around the edges feeling.
People pull strings on me.
I unwind.

Usually, I am stronger stuff –
A rippling canvas sail,
Stiff, all business blue jeans.
But today, I am a thin chiffon
Curtain, fraying at the edges.

Hold me up –
You can see right through me.
Pluck out my seams.
Unravel my stitches.

There’s not much to it.
I can be completely unmade.
Turned into unspooled thread
The connections are so loose.

I see me
Blowing away, swept into an
Alley, no starch left to resist,
Tossed in the nearest dustbin.

An old tattered rag,
Not even fit to clean with.
When I have been washed too much


* * * * *

Frances Gaudiano is a veterinary nurse and practicing druid. Her novel, The Listener, was published last year and two other projects are in the editing stages. Her poetry has appeared in a variety of journals and she hopes to produce a chapbook soon. Currently, she lives in Cornwall (England) with two dogs, a husband and a frightening teenager.