Dirty Laundry

Buckets of water full of decrepit debris
and the mud you track in are filled endlessly
overflowing to the point to which it cannot
bear the load any longer.

So your hard hands dump it all on my bodice
soaking me from top to bottom as I’m dripping
in your progressing problems.

As the chill of my cold wet shirt freezes
my aching back the grimy filth crawls
on my skin weakening me more and more.

So incapable you are of washing your own filth
that I’m forced to use soap to scrub them away;
So please just hang me up to dry.