my inside is on the outside my left side is on the right side - Travis

automatic

beads of water
spinning fabric,
stuck between the
holes that
release the soap,
fabric softener
like a bandage,

some reassurance
that clothes will
remain the same,
airing out this tension

the wringing and wrinkling of
your fingernail caught
on a thread,
unravelling
so delicately

fragile colour dyes
to camouflage
the true form,
a lie from the
start

mundane hands
attach them to
clothes line
without a thought,
deadening in the
machine