Featured Poem

Morning: Laundromat

A tattooed couple by the bank
of video games are fondling 

each other. Fluorescent lights, lime 
green walls haven’t dampened their 

ardor. Loud cartoons on the single 
TV. The overwhelming scent 

of Pine-Sol. A cleaner wonders
aloud about the stupidity 

of someone who would use powder 
detergent in a slot clearly 

marked LIQUID ONLY. Coins clink 
into the tray of the change machine. 

I open the lid of a washer. 
Next to me a young mother, 

with two infants and two carts 
of clothes, recommends the triple 

loader instead. It costs more, but 
it’s a better wash. I take her 

advice and stuff in two dog beds, 
measure out the Tide, plunge quarters 

into the box. She returns 
to her pile of clothes, smiling,

her babies cooing. Happiness.
It comes on unexpectedly. 

It is enough. 

Published in Sky Island Journal, January 2021