Rinse Cycle

a revised version of another poem

She washes your laundry daily and faithfully.
Ridding the stench of some woman you probably had sex with the night before.

She irons your clothes in the morning and folds the inseam of the
pants leg where she probably touched you and turned you on
like she used to.

She prays over you're cold dinner plate inter-seeding for
you, hoping God will still bless you in your mess.
She sends the kids to bed. Tells them daddy is working late
again and misses you, although you never called home to check.

As she washes the dishes at night, she knows she has one more chore

to attend to as you enter doing your best impression of a sober man.

She ignores the smell of latex on your hands as you hold and kiss her in bed.

So she holds you with one hand, and under her pillow she firmly grips an Oscar award in the other. She hates to lie and pretend during sex, but it’s the only way she can still lay with you. Honoring her marriage vows to the fullest.

In her mind the lies you share are the only honest emotional connection left.

Silhouettes of random women prance in her head like some sick Christmas movie.
She wishes she could see faces so her brain signals could relate the pain
more efficiently to her chest.

To relieve some hurt, she removes her favorite shirt you wear from the
rinse cycle, smells it and hugs it tightly while it still has some honesty left.

Nostalgia does have a scent.

Holidays aren't the same since you've graced her home with adultery's presence.
Some family and friends are fooled by your display of public affection.
But not everyone is republican.
And if your marriage could be voted on every four years you wouldn't
even be considered for re-election.

It's a sad analogy, but you're marriage is like retiring from a job after the
45 years minimum, never took a day off, always on time, employee of the month countless times. And all she gets is a "thank you" letter, and that cheap a*s gold watch for her efforts.
It's a shame a watch has more value than you're marriage.

So mom finds value and solitude in the basement, never accepting assistance.
To tell your mother "I love you", and her only response is "okay, cool" is a horrible feeling. Desensitation is horrible feeling.
In addition to shouts of, "Woman! I’m hungry, where's dinner?  What’s taking so long with those clothes?" Is not helping this cycle run smoothly either.

And the only reason she stays is not for the kids, her morals, or some form of righteousness. It's simple...
She was raised to wash and fold her problems away long before you came.
Ever since the day child and mommy went to surprise daddy at work, caught him kissing the secretary and mommy pretended she didn’t see it.

So If you wonder why sometimes I still go to mommas house to wash clothes,
call me lazy if you'd like. I understand if ignorance leads you.
It may just be the only display of love available is thru the dirty socks, detergent, and those bounty dryer sheets we run through.
The dryer her eyes the less water in that red sea you created.
Filled with the broken hearts of housewives. Still bleeding.
Praying God will make you two part ways so my heart and

my mother's can finally meet.

"Hey mom, are you washing clothes today?
Okay, cool...
I'll be thru...
You wash, and I'll fold..."

Reviews

[Practically Enchanted]

Yes I agree brilliant. Its like a story unfolding and I love the laundry being used as the reference point!

[REALIZE]

Nothing short of brilliant. You let the story tell itself and made points with imagery like the folding of the pants leg. I thought were very emotional and smooth throughout. It didnt get boring it didnt drag on it stayed at the level I feel you intentionally made it out to be. Great read.