Thursday, 18 May 2017

A poem by Alicia Cole

Laundry


These are the events we don’t discuss:
the tape on the bottom
of a prop coffee cup
on a movie set, the leftovers
of a warehouse fire,
these small and giant tragedies.
Each one an upturned sip
of nothingness. Each one needing
some human sympathy.
A hand to remove the tape;
a hand to remove the bodies
from the wreckage.
Some basic human sympathy
in the face of neglectful salvation:
what hand ever reached down
while they burned, or ruined the scene?
I’ve one more load in the laundry,
my roommate says, and I must agree.
With my view of God tonight,
something else we don’t discuss,
certain events need laundering.










Alicia Cole is a writer and visual artist in Huntsville, AL. She lives in a halfway house. To learn more about her, visit her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AliciaColewriter.

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