Friday, 18 September 2009

Dirty Laundry

‭“‬Hang the fucking flannel up‭!”
I whisper in a hoarse cry,
The words break free like‭
Adultrous‭ ‬men in black,‭
Up to no good.

I see my snarl in the bathroom mirror.
Guilt at such pettiness
Makes me wince.

My friend has just been widowed,
Another's in remission,
And here I am screaming about flannels.

Good job I didn't really yell it out.

Yet,‭ ‬still I try to justify my fury.
It's a symptom.
A tip of an iceburg.
A metaphor.

But I feel small.

I hang up the flannel,
Then decide to throw it‭
In the boil wash after all.

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