Undulating piles of sordid duds
outstretched upon my bedroom rug
hung over chairs
bearing all the stench and stains,
worldly accretions, and body-secretions,
wrinkled, malodorous
--like tired aging sinners
yearning to be cleansed!
each week the sacrament begins anew,
each week they’re born again:
industrial strength baptism
at $1.75 a load,
yet even as I fold them now, I see the future clear:
they’ll be soiled, and they’ll be saved,
then they’ll be pure and bright,
and I’ll be folding them again, next week on Wednesday night
-jorge999 :-)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment