Poetry: BLUE

BLUE

-Rebecca Rehfeld, December 17, 2007

One morning

I awoke to a behemothic

blue bed

My husband went to work

without a word

never even glanced my way

The maid came and

made the bed with me in it -

just went about her business despite my

silent

protests,

the chippie

as if I she couldn't see me

among the 800 thread count

and square folds -

smaller than a speck

speckless

When she came to strip the bed

on laundry day

I was balled up, tossed down the chute

and promptly buried under

my husband's boxers

and other soiled discards

I should have been worried about

time in the washer

but in order to worry

there must be expectation

So easy to be

a speck

The spin cycle gave me a little trouble

Still, I felt almost cogent

when I emerged

so I tried to think of the dryer

as a vacation somewhere

in the southwest

But I was

just a speck

that might blow away like top soil

at any moment

and become lost with the other specks