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Column 069

Ironing After Midnight

Intro by Ted Kooser
07.26.2006

This mar­velous poem by the Cal­i­for­nia poet Mar­sha Tru­man Coop­er per­fect­ly cap­tures the world of iron­ing, com­plete with its inti­ma­cy. At the end, doing a job to per­fec­tion, press­ing the per­fect edge, estab­lish­es a reas­sur­ing order to an oth­er­wise mun­dane and slight­ly tawdry world.

Ironing After Midnight

Your mother called it
"doing the pressing,"
and you know now
how right she was.
There is something urgent here.
Not even the hiss
under each button
or the yellow business
ground in at the neck
can make one instant
of this work seem unimportant.
You've been taught
to turn the pocket corners
and pick out the dark lint
that collects there.
You're tempted to leave it,
but the old lessons
go deeper than habits.
Everyone else is asleep.
The odor of sweat rises
when you do
under the armpits,
the owner's particular smell
you can never quite wash out.
You'll stay up.
You'll have your way,
the final stroke
and sharpness
down the long sleeves,
a truly permanent edge.

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We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Reprinted from "River Styx," No. 32, 1990, by permission of the author whose most recent book is "Substantial Holdings," Pudding House Publications, 2002. Poem copyright © 1990 by Marsha Truman Cooper. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.