for Avey
about friends you know leaving


Internal Laundry

I feel like a washing machine.
You're on the other side of the world to me,
Bubble-wrapping your goods in boxes
as I'm fumbling in my pocket for change,
Creasing the clothes newly ironed
while you fold enough to keep you going,
Leaving all the rest behind.

Strangers carry baskets closely,
Plastic frames digging into ribs.
Observation while I wait for the spin cycle
to click on from rinse,
Swirls of colour and white and water and black
Visible in the front loader,
Not like the top opened I'm used to.

There's a leafy plant in the corner
Not unlike one in your old house,
Striated, shades of green.
You turn, take one last look before
locking the door, bags at your feet.
I turn also, parcel tucked under arm
To place the soap box back on the shelf




Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 620 times
Written on 2006-07-26 at 05:31

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