Sometimes, while working in the laundry of the hospital, recalls the university campus and the years in which he studied Hispanic Philology.It would have been better, he thinks, keep studying and not risking spending his entire life under the stalker noise of the washing machines and dryers.In the clothes that arrives every day, there are remains of blood, feces, pieces of umbilical cords, death footprints.Death leaves a strange perfume.Some elders shower, comb, shave and soak up dandy to take a walk, one more, but this time on an unknown path.That smell does not remove it or the centrifuged, nor the bleachers, nor the temperatures of 80 degrees.

The death that she smells and sees in the hospital does not have exclusive.The streets of the place where they work give to the strait and it is not uncommon to live with the wrecks of the pateras.Participates in the solidarity mobilizations that seek to help survivors.Now that we have suffered the pandemic and we have come to applaud doctors and nurses, not so much to laundry workers, it would be good to remember the etymological brotherhood between hospitals and hospitality.

Doctors, medical?Nurses, nurses?We applaud, but we also know that there are few who applaud women who sweep, scrive or clean the clothes of the infected.She feels mistreated by the lack of shame of a boss and for the little respect of those who pass by her without greeting.The condemnation of absence does not erase the fear and will with which tomorrow takes the bus to go to work.Pillows, sheets, pajamas and shrouds are needed, which are stacked in cardboard boxes.The bodies during the pandemic are wrapped in plastic bags.Death now belongs to the same world as industrial pastries.But she would like to have her mother's hands as a shroud.

It is not easy for you to enter the costumes to put your work clothes.Is that he likes women and fears that he notic.He also hides when asked if he has a boyfriend, he better not give there explanations, not say things that give arguments to others to treat her differently.That does not prevent him from hearing with attention the conversations of the companions.Older women are going to work soon, they hurry home because they have to fix it, make food, wash family clothes and care for grandchildren.

All this tells in verse Begoña M.Wheel in the Book Lavandería Service (Hyperion, 2021) Lavandería Service, XXXVI Hyperion Poetry Award.He knows in advance that when he presents the book, some readers will approach to ask him in which institute or in what university he gives class ... and that they will look at her over the shoulder when he replies that he works in the laundry of a hospital.Nor do some companions look at her when they find out what she is a poet.What will this be believed? They murmured when he published 404 error (Visor, 2020).

The truth is that it does not have it easy.There are many too, buts and tampos in your life.I also have forces forces herself by presenting to poetry awards, winning them, but above all writing poems with the same care that iron a pajamas for the sick child, for the old man who just entered, for the husband of the woman who criesIn the hospital and that almost does not listen to the good will of the son who murmurs "don't worry, you'll see how he gets well".She tries to forget that yesterday she washed the patient's sheets that now take out four men from the funeral home.On the coffin ran the lift wind and replace the rain.

There is a lot of collective in the most intimate things.