This is the first poem in a series of poems that explore what the commonplace objects in a student’s life would say if they underwent an Enid Blyton-esque change overnight, and could speak.
If my Laundry Bag could speak,
It would, first, cough up some dirty clothes
And some torn sheets of paper before
Clearing its throat
And screaming;
It would say I’m abusive,
That I neglect and dirty until
My closet’s count of clothes is nil
While the bag sits
Still clearly weeping;
The phrase
“I’ll give my laundry tomorrow”
Puts it in perpetual sorrow
Because it knows that “tomorrow”
Never really comes;
It hangs heavy meanwhile,
Bearing the weight of dirty shirts
With a smile –
Tougher than an Amazonian crocodile
With thumbs;
I would sit by its side
And offer some comfort
But I suspect it would be nothing but curt –
Apologies I would have to blurt
Until it softens;
I’ll resist pride and admit –
If my Laundry Bag could speak,
And could remind me regularly,
I would wash my clothes aggressively and
More often.
