Even the first woman
Did laundry –
Slapped wet fabric
Against stones

Soaked cold water into
Hidden stains
Kept from public eyes

Rubbed out with
Red fingers the imprints of
What was not talked about

Reforged into
A more presentable shape
Hung it high on the family tree
As though it had
Every right
To be there

It is what we women do
This cleaning of sheets
This tidying of messes
This keeping up appearances