I lay in this mess that is memory
tangled in the mistiness of morning
the comforters from last year
ruined by the color of reminiscing
all the things missed, collecting in a bundle.
With each cycle as yellow sweats
on the submarine eye glass, the t-shirt
with the smell of her arm-pits, spins
360 at the 24-hour all you can clean.
I realize how lonely I’ve become.
And I’m not relieved by possibilities
whispering promises like crickets
while her laughter fades
in this room’s blue-black ear.
4 thoughts on “Dirty Linens”
Such control over the tone, original phrasing. It is shaped like a piece of music too, soft and straight intro and endings perfectly wrapped around the swirl in the middle.
I can see you in blue jeans, sitting on a cheap plastic seat, elbows on your knees and head in your hands. staring into the whirling nothing. strong piece.
That made me cry – what more can you say.
Hey there, thanks for stopping by.
beautiful, my favorite is the blue black ear