i found his head in the washing machine yesterday
while it was set on a delicate spin
turning, rotating, flipping
looking at me and grinning
his uneven teeth chattering against the surface
and I smiled
i think he was trying to say something
but you know how those old machines are
they’re noisy and they can subdue
what your lover might say, may do
so I lifted his head and wrung it out to dry
fresh air does him good you see
hung him upside down on the clothesline
soft hair basking in the warm sunshine
and I smiled
brought him inside when the sun set
sprayed him gently with regret
lay him flat on the ironing board
my man had creases on his soul
ran my fingers over his temporal lobe
ironed the crevices of his mind
saw faded moments in there
attempting to shine
and I smiled
couldn’t resist
rumpled him up with both hands
inhaled his residue one more time
put him back in the washing machine
this time on a not-so-delicate spin
hoping to rinse off our stains
make him feel all fresh again
and i smiled
i saw his head in the machine again this morning
turning, rotating, flipping
looking at me and grinning
his uneven teeth chattering against the surface
i think this is working
the drain pipe is slowly clogging up with our memories
Priya writes because.
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