In an age when T-shirts are our libraries,
doing laundry is a literate job.
My daughter puts a clean one on
and her seventeen-year body is an open book.
But when she takes it off, on just another
virgin night, she says, Mom it's hard
to sleep against my breasts. Agreed,
but I don't curse them. Sometimes I curse
the mattress springs, get up and read
you under the lamp. Or clear-imaged lines
of my former teacher, lesbian,
you would like. Otherwise, no birds
will sing for two more hours yet.
I hand-do the indecipherable lingerie --
cups that would strain wine!
Then lie down and dream your life
linked in bumpy sleep with mine.
McPherson, Sandra. "Note to Sappho." Streamers. NY: Ecco Press, (c) 1988, p. 34.
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