Taos Laundry Day, by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

Deposits Unto Heaven
by MFrostDelaney

Such blessings in a laundry day like this …
These mats are hung where air can set them free.
And even though the clouds turn dark, their hiss
cannot disturb these mats–a holy see
of rusts and browns and turquoise gemmed and jeweled
into the woven fabrics, as if prayer
had loomed itself into their threads–yes, fueled
entreaties into textile-love, and there,
displayed upon the altar of a porch,
their flapping like an incense in the wind,
an angel’s ray beams down, a tiny torch
of Easter fire blessing all who’ve sinned–
the feet that walked the mats and never thanked
the hands that tend the mats–their penance banked.


 


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