On Spin
S
Susan Lacovara
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The task of taking
The week's long laundry
To soak and spin
Rinse and wring
Metaphorically mimicking
The hum drum days
That stain her calendar pages
No amount of suds
Can cleanse him from her thoughts
The electric buzz
Of the cold and uniformed steel machines
Echoes the ongoing circling
Or repetitive noises
Within her own mind
No furious flush of water
Able to lift out the dirt he left
On the sleeve where she wore her heart
Her fabric noticeably worn and torn
Strangers stand in still life lines
Spreading their garments
Of silk and cotton alike
Starched and sparkling white
As if none have had any sadness
Spilled upon them
He used to love the way her linens smelled
Fresh as lilies and invitingly soft
She had chosen to keep a small bed
So that their shoulders might always touch
Now the chore of bundling
Her brightly colored clothing
And pairing only one person's socks
Sent a stabbing reminder
That life goes on for the lonely
And even Cinderella had laundry to fold
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