Thursday, October 01, 2009
Sharon, let go of the child. It’s finished. It’s really finished.
The mornings in the laundry, gone,
Piled-up and discarded, a thin film of softener
Inside the dispenser. Leave it! Let your heart stop. Let the pegs
snap and fly off the line when you pull at the clothes.
A funny, funny story but how does it end? It doesn’t, does it.
Behind the air a coolness that wasn’t there before. Just wasn’t.
Christ, not now. I haven’t had a good one. A thumping
good one, and then.
And then? OK.