for an hour
in the dimly lit
basement,
with a square of light
from a winter
sun bleeding through.
i stop and sit
on a metal chair
beside the washer,
still warmly churning,
and think hard about
the things
i have no control over.
one being you.
then i get up and take
the clothes upstairs
to a closet, to a shelf
where i've made
sufficient room.
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