Unexpected Pleasures.

Folding Sheets. By Marge Piercy.

They must be clean.

There ought to be two of you

to talk as you work, your

eyes and hands meeting.

They can be crisp, a little rough

and fragrant from the line:

or hot from the dryer

as from an oven. A silver

grey kitten with amber

eyes to dart among

the sheets and wrestle and leap out

helps. But mostly pleasure

lies in the clean linen

slapping into shape.

Whenever I fold a fitted sheet

making the moves that are like

closing doors, I feel my mother.

The smell of laundry is hers.

Support our chosen charity Honeypot here.