dainty things in blue

Poetry * Photos * Day-to-Day Life

Tuesday, January 17, 2006


written summer 2005


With nowhere to stop, I drove to the Laundromat.
A succession of molded orange chairs
opposed a row of avocado washers, their
mouths like Communicants, thrust wide
for quarters. A boy in rubber clogs brushed
his mother’s long, red hair. I perched
with my knees tucked into my armpits
atop the washer nearest the plate-glass window
and watched the reflection of the bristles
dividing the strands while her hands paired clean socks.
Hair has no lungs and neither does flame.


  • At 11:48 AM, Blogger Jamie S. Rich said…

    I like this one.

    Thanks for posting to my blog about libraries. It led me to your profile and the surprising occupation: poet. Then here.

    You should post more poems!


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