Feeling a Bit Felted
I don’t have a poet’s light tongue today.
The wool kept felting as I cleaned it,
My dog sat a little apart, head tipped
And considered what to do with me.
It took fourteen tries to get the lawn mower going
And then it ran out of gas. I left
Two lovely cut stripes outside the kitchen window,
The rest gone to yellow dandelion riots.
Elbow deep in dish soap I found out
Curry stains don’t rinse out of Tupperware,
And yet, thankfully,
You don’t wash out of me.