The National Catholic Review

Be praised, my Lord,for the washing machine,whose swingle flails the soiled and stained.
And he ministers to the splot, the blotch, the spattered cuff.
Be praised, my Lord,for your spirit that comes upon him,for his jump and whirl and jug jug jug.
(My infant son slept on his shaking back.The meek love him and cling to his sides.)
For the flange, which shakes the floorboards,sends the cat beneath the bed.
Be praised, my Lord, for the agitator,through whose pivot and plunge into tubmany of the most smudged are cleaned.
Be praised, my Lord, for the delicate cycle,in which lace and wool can be soaked.
Blessed is the soapy breaththat sweetens each room of my house.
Praise and bless the Lord, whose will is done by these God’s servants:
wringer, pulley, drum.

Anya Silver, living in Macon, Ga., has most recently published poems in Image, Christianity and Literature, The Christian Century and Anglican Theological Review.

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