Appetite

Laundry

72 Laundry Cloths flagging on the line and shirts and panties ballooning full with wind gusts. You pin up each garment imagine a sock rolling up a foot a leg entering a pair of trousers— daily shrouds of dressing. You hang schools of underwear inside out floating colors that surprise birds— a cardinal perches on a line for a dare throabing its red throat against a red bandana. The laundry vacillates doubling rows of clammy ghosts limp and dangling. On a towel, America floats upside down shaped in the hide of a buffalo and beneath the clothesline reads in reverse: “colors that won’t run away.” ...