Over and over and spinning and spinning
The beiges are dancing in the machine
I sit on the dryer and wait so patiently
for the load to be done and restarted again.
Tumbling and ruffling and slapping and falling
I sort dry towels while the clothes are still washing
The sheets are so dry and so warm in my hands
like an oven preheated and ready for bread.
Slowing and slowing and stopping so suddenly
The tans and whites have finished their bath
I open the door and I’m shocked what I see:
A red cloth poisoning the rest of the batch.
I’ll have to settle for pink shirts forever.