If I could just be the washerman

doing her laundry for one month only,

I would be faithful to pick up the bundles,

sturdy to beat clean the heavy linens,

But gentle to touch those finespun things

lying closest the body I love.

I would rinse with pure water the perfumes

that linger still in her tunics,

And I'd dry my own flesh with the towels

she yesterday held to her face.

The touch of her clothes, their textures,

her softness in them...

Thank god for the body,

its youthful vigor!