Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

Wringer Washer

Wringer Washer

The wringer washer
shimmied and shook,
never broke but spat out clothes --
water divided splat
and swirled down a hole
in the basin tub when I was a tad,

replaced by a top-loader
for reasons unclear --
loads oft out of balance
did occur, as it
spun and shook
like a rocket on pad
aimed for space when I was a lad

before failure to launch one day --

and replaced
by a front-loader
that took my big clothes
on a smooth ride to sea --
happily would proclaim return
with a jaunty theme.
But, like a chain through gullet,
would grind a throaty complaint --
rare electrical components
too high a cost to replace.

So,
the old wringer washer arrived
from yesteryear --
in storage since dad died --
and would reside
in the corner of a new basement,
noisily splooshing out water with pride.

I wrung all our clothes,
pressed through
the squeaky pin-rollers,
careful not to pinch my claiming fingers.

I could imagine mom fill with pride
before I threw that load
in dryer before it, too, died.
Guess, I’ll hang out to dry.


9.28.20
39 lines, vers libre

Taboo words:
Through The Years (theme)

It's as much a commentary on the eroding quality of products today, as it is about happy memories of an old washer and doing laundry with mom growing up.