Easter Monday all I do is washing,
stuffing the mouth of the machine, then tugging
out, then hanging. How many beautiful dresses
are needed for one life? Or lacy undies,
whiter than white? All day I’m crying, my eyes
gone sudsy. Pity-me tears are kind of lovely,
kind of awful. I cry in cycles, steady
rinse then spin. As soon as I’m dry, I cry

again. Liz once said she wished her belly
had a glass door like a washing machine
so she could check her little sleeping baby,
clean her mind of all the fear and fretting –
but we’ve only got our eyes for screens,
peering out, sometimes peering in.

Hannah Lowe is a poet, memoirist, and academic. Her latest book, The Kids, a Poetry Book Society ‘Choice’ for Autumn, won the Costa Poetry Award and the Costa Book of the Year, 2021. Her first poetry collection Chick (Bloodaxe, 2013) won the Michael Murphy Memorial Award for Best First Collection. In September 2014, she was named as one of 20 Next Generation poets. Her family memoir Long Time, No See (Periscope, 2015) featured as Radio 4’s Book of the Week. Two new chapbooks are forthcoming in May with Hercules Editions. She teaches Creative Writing at Brunel University. @hannahlowepoet