The Rotary Clothesline

All the things that could be said hung like wet laundry on the rotary clothesline

It’s groaning under the weight of stain removal, odour extraction,

Limp and heavy and soaking

They’ve been cold washed trying to warm in late summer when sunshine just isn’t that generous

They were wrung out and wet again

Tumbled and blasted

They’ve been through the motions

They are being prepared to be worn by a climate unready for things

That could be said

And are left waiting on the rotary clothesline instead

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Worn

Fading like cheap fast fashion finds

at the laundromat

It is comforting to listen:

Consistent squelching and intermittent beeping

Facilitate the end.

I’m wrung tense and left to dry in my own time,

ruffled, wrinkled, and discoloured.