The Laundry Woman’s Sky

By VB Bonny

They say the sky is the limit.

Hers was only three meters long,

one side pinned to the wall,

the other alive in the sunlight.

The clothes breathed soap

and a bucket of water,

pinched with a promise 

and laughter.

The smell of labour

dressed in devotion

wringing silence,

smoothing wrinkles

and emotion. 

The sky blushed 

with the colours 

of saris, uniforms, 

and a shirt that fluttered.

The rope never bent,

neither did it break

by the three meters of confession.

I watched

from the window,

as the sun becomes crescendo.

She looked up at the sky;

she squinted her eyes, 

at the sun that flickered all day.

How her routine hung on the line.

A beauty dressed in patience, 

and we call it divine.