Industrial Lace poem – Alice Fulton

The city had such pretty clotheslines.

Women aired their intimate apparel

in the emery haze:

membranes of lingerie—

pearl, ruby, copper slips—

their somehow intestinal quivering in the wind.

And Freihofer’s spread the chaste, apron scent

of baking, a sensual net

over a few yards of North Troy.

The city had Niagara

Mohawk bearing down with power and light

and members of the Local

shifting on the line.

They worked on fabrics made from wood and acid,

synthetics that won’t vent.

They pieced the tropics into housecoats

when big prints were the rage.

Dacron gardens twisted on the line

over lots of Queen Anne’s lace.

Sackdresses dyed the sun

as sun passed through, making a brash stained glass

against the leading of the tenements,

the warehouse holding medical supplies.

I waited for my bus by that window of trusses

in Caucasian beige, trying to forget

the pathological inside.

I was thinking of being alive.

I was waiting to open

the amber envelopes of mail at home.

Just as food service workers, counter women,

maybe my Aunt Fran, waited to undo

their perms from the delicate insect meshes

required by The Board of Health.

Aunt Alice wasn’t on this route.

She made brushes and plastics at Tek Hughes—

milk crates of orange

industrial lace

the cartons could drip through.

Once we boarded, the girls from Behr-Manning

put their veins up

and sawed their nails to dust

on files from the plant.

All day, they made abrasives. Garnet paper.

Yes, and rags covered with crushed gems called

garnet cloth.

It was dusk—when aunts and mothers formed

their larval curls

and wrapped their heads in thick brown webs.

It was yesterday—twenty years after

my father’s death,

I found something he had kept.

A packet of lightning-

cut sanding discs, still sealed.

I guess he meant to open the finish,

strip the paint stalled on some grain

and groom the primal gold.

The discs are the rough size

of those cookies the franchises call Homestyle

and label Best Before.

The old cellophane was tough.

But I ripped until I touched

their harsh done crust.

Alice Fulton

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Poems in English 

• Andromeda poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Patience, Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• No Worst, There Is None. Pitched Past Pitch Of Grief poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• My prayers must meet a brazen heaven poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• My Own Heart Let Me Have More Have Pity On; Let poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Morning Midday And Evening Sacrifice poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Moonrise poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Moonless darkness stands between poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• May Magnificat poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Love Preparing to Fly poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Let me be to Thee as the circling bird poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Inversnaid poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• In The Valley Of The Elwy poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• In Honour Of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark, Not Day poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Hurrahing In Harvest poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Hope Holds to Christ poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Henry Purcell poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins
• Heaven–Haven: A Nun Takes The Veil poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems by Gerald Manley Hopkins

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Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

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Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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