A linen tablecloth lay smoothly rough

upon the kitchen table there

Rare shade of sombre silver blue, the cloth

at least I've never seen the like

And very old

from grandma's house

her hope-chest even, maybe?

Almost perfect, couple tiny darns I did that came out rather well

Considering my ignorance and total lack of skill — just googled it

The kitchen routine in this house

in better, softer days

had been to breakfast there,

and, weekends, sometimes lunch

But always dine

in dining room

— obey the name, I guess

So laundering a kitchen cloth might happen once a week

Unless some wilder breaking of the fast occurred, made stains

Post-death-mode does keep some things clean . . .

this subtle blue-hued tablecloth just seems to stay,

of late, unmarred and magically pristine

Lost track how long it has been laid out there,

on kitchen table — just keeps on looking newly-ironed

ever-fresh and even, almost, crisp

(though spray starch hadn't been applied

not used for that blue cloth, just pressed it wet, or at least very damp

'til hot steam iron weight could slowly force it flat and stiffly dry)

Today, took note of tiny mark —

caused small inner debate

the rest of it unmarred

quite strangely so

persisting pure and spotless

could spot-clean be enough?

but closer look was needed to decide

Lifted the linen — no, did not! weirdly proved tight-sealed to tabletop

Inch by inch, thread by thread, cloth clung to wooden surface there