Bejewell on January 1st, 2012

It started as a little pile
A little pile, of dirty style
To wash it would just take a while
A very short, short while.

But my life was busy, so
I let it grow, even though
I needed clean and folded clothes
I really let it go.

The family just kept adding more
The hamper spilled out on the floor
Still, I refused to do my chore
That useless, boring chore.

And so, the pile became a mound
60 pounds, five feet around
At least four feet from top to ground
A real impressive mound.

And THEN it grew into a hill
A silly hill, like Jack and Jill’s
It grew into a silly hill
A silly, scary hill.

The hill became a mountain, then
Tall as Big Ben, and without end
Tall as a stack of a thousand men
Remarkably tall men.

It grew so tall, it blocked the sun
And without sun, life was no fun
It must have weighed at least a ton
At least a goddamned ton.

Not one clean thing, not anywhere
Our drawers were spare, our closets bare
Not a single pair of underwear!
Not one clean thing to wear.

I fell into the pile one day
Was it foul play? I couldn’t say
But I was trapped, to my dismay
Like a needle in some hay.

No help, my husband shook his head
“Tough luck,” he said, I begged and pled
He and my son just left instead
They left me there for dead.

I began to suffocate
A slow heart rate left me sedate
I swore I could see heaven’s gate
I knew death was my fate.

In my last hours, I felt contrite
“If I’d known, I really might
Have separated darks from white,”
I thought, with sad hindsight.

I made one last stab to survive
I kicked and cried, and wished, closed-eyed
That all those clothes were washed and dried…

And then I fucking died.

Death By Laundry

It started as a little pile

A laundry pile of dirtied style

To wash it would just take a while

A very short, short while.

But my life was busy, so

I let it grow, even though

I needed clean and folded clothes

I really let it go.

The family just kept adding more

The hamper spilled out on the floor

Still I refused to do my chore

That useless, boring chore.

And so, the pile became a mound

60 pounds, five feet around

At least four feet, from top to ground

A real impressive mound.

And THEN it grew into a hill

A silly hill, like Jack and Jill

It grew into a silly hill

A silly, scary hill.

The hill became a mountain then

Tall as Big Ben, and without end

Tall as a stack of a thousand men

Remarkably tall men.

It grew so tall, it blocked the sun

And without sun, life was no fun

It must have weighed at least a ton

At least a goddamned ton.

Not one clean thing, not anywhere

Our drawers were spare, our closets bare

Not a single pair of underwear!

Not one clean thing to wear.

I fell into the pile one day

Was it foul play? I couldn’t say

But I was trapped, to my dismay

Like a needle in some hay.

No help, my husband shook his head

“Tough luck,” he said, as I begged and pled

He packed and le

Death By Laundry

It started as a little pile

A laundry pile of dirtied style

To wash it would just take a while

A very short, short while.

But my life was busy, so

I let it grow, even though

I needed clean and folded clothes

I really let it go.

The family just kept adding more

The hamper spilled out on the floor

Still I refused to do my chore

That useless, boring chore.

And so, the pile became a mound

60 pounds, five feet around

At least four feet, from top to ground

A real impressive mound.

And THEN it grew into a hill

A silly hill, like Jack and Jill

It grew into a silly hill

A silly, scary hill.

The hill became a mountain then

Tall as Big Ben, and without end

Tall as a stack of a thousand men

Remarkably tall men.

It grew so tall, it blocked the sun

And without sun, life was no fun

It must have weighed at least a ton

At least a goddamned ton.

Not one clean thing, not anywhere

Our drawers were spare, our closets bare

Not a single pair of underwear!

Not one clean thing to wear.

I fell into the pile one day

Was it foul play? I couldn’t say

But I was trapped, to my dismay

Like a needle in some hay.

No help, my husband shook his head

“Tough luck,” he said, as I begged and pled

He packed and left the house instead

He left me there for dead.

I began to suffocate

A slow heart rate left me sedate

I thought I could see heaven’s gate

I knew death was my fate.

Finally, I felt contrite

“If I’d known, I really might

Have separated darks from white,”

I thought, with sad hindsight

I made one last stab to survive

I kicked and cried, and wished, closed-eyed

That all those clothes were washed and dried…

And then I fucking died.

ft the house instead

He left me there for dead.

I began to suffocate

A slow heart rate left me sedate

I thought I could see heaven’s gate

I knew death was my fate.

Finally, I felt contrite

“If I’d known, I really might

Have separated darks from white,”

I thought, with sad hindsight

I made one last stab to survive

I kicked and cried, and wished, closed-eyed

That all those clothes were washed and dried…

And then I fucking died.

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6 Responses to “Death By Laundry”

  1. Now that you’re done with yours, can you come and wash my clothes? :)

  2. Oh how I know that feeling…Happy New Year!!

  3. Best.poem.ever.

  4. Oh, the humanity! Touching!

  5. Brilliant poem!

  6. Finally someone has the courage to call this crazy, f-ed-up, teenage laundry situation what it really is: a death trap. Please let me know as soon as you begin selling wrist bands.

    SK

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