Lunatic Laundress
The Lunatic Laundress
(Hanwell Asylum, 1834.)
We each have our tasks:
the delirious wash,
the aggressive wring it,
the imbeciles hang up the linen to dry
the melancholy iron it
the obsessives fold it
and put it away.
I’m a washer and wringer
for they say I am violent,
curse, swear
and use bad language.
I’m kept busy from six in the morning
till late. I’m too busy to argue
or even to think.
It’s better than sewing
sitting still as a statue
except for the needle
pricking the cloth
in and out
like what the master
did to me.
It’s better than thinking
about my baby.
I must be docile,
and pious
and grateful
to the parish
for taking her in.
I’ll slap and I’ll slap
till I’ve loosened the dirt
of my sin and am pure
as a nun,
my mind purged of madness
as blank as clean sheets
and neatly folded up.
First published in Milking the Haggis: New Writing Scotland, 2004.