Laundry Day

Your smell of mint and citrus infused in my pillowcase,
Becoming a tea bag of spices steamed to the precipice of oblivion.
I don’t want to wash my sheets but a chocolate stain calls for detergent attention.

“Eating chocolate in bed?”
Your mouth sputters, air escaping from a carbonated glass,
Pleasant and causing your eyes to crinkle in
A multitude of waves crashing on a shore of lashes.

A Jackson Pollock of yesterday morning’s coffee
Splattered on the white blanket, a canvas of modern mishap.
Water and soap, fading the black sheets into half a shadow.
The other half missing in a mess of machine monotony.
Joined by my woolen sock, only used in winter, lost by
The churning and static charge changing its magnetic force away from its pair.
A ball of 92% Nylon and 8% Spandex with
Crescent moons of thinned fabric, where you pulled it off,
Finds its way into the
Soapy suds of my afternoon.

 
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Natalie Steenbergh has a degree in English from Wayne State University, where she served as Assistant Editor for the Wayne Literary Review. She will be attending graduate school at Eastern Michigan University, pursuing an MA in literature. This is her first published work.

 

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