this poem is not about laundry

here is another way-back poem…
when my now ex-husband moved with me into our first home with it’s own washer & dryer, he turned to me & said, “i am never doing laundry again.”
and he didn’t.
until i divorced him & moved out.
but it’s not really about the laundry…is it?

The literati mafia

this poem might be about laundry
or maybe it’s a memoir
about laundry
or maybe it is
of what goes wrong
a symptom
of what is wrong
all i know 

is we fell in love
& we were invincible
& life was a game
to play
at the laundromat
washing and drying and folding
always together
always goofing off and cracking jokes
intermingling our
it didn’t feel like a chore
it was just
another way
to be 
to be in love
because life is a fucking
fairy tale
we were married
& we bought a house
our very own washer and dryer
the american
for laundry
high-efficiency even
but where is he now?
why am i
the only one
washing and drying and folding?
when did it go
from us vs. the laundry
to me
the fucking

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