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One Lone Sock
by Gary Floyd



Laundry, isolated and cut off, tumbles inside an industrial-sized washing machine

Soapy clothes - socks, shirts, bras, and underwear – are pressed up against the glass before they slide deeper into the wash drum.

What did you say before you took your clothes and books out of our apartment?

A misplaced sock, probably yours, passes by; pressed up against the glass before it slides down into the machine again

The soap scrubs it clean – taking a little of your essence from me - even as it bleeds onto the rest of my clothes.

I feel a little melancholy doing laundry alone.




a line, (a blue one)


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