Dirty laundry

by Aleza Freeman

If you get a chance, please check out Big Doodle Head for a preview of a project my husband and I are working on. This poem comes to you direct from there. I wrote it, and my husband Howard Freeman drew the naked dude:

Dirty Laundry

Up the stairs
and down the hallway
through the bedroom door

I left my favorite
pair of jeans
lying on the floor

my shirt balled in the corner
my coat turned inside out
my underwear atop the lamp
my socks strewn all about.

Do you have a robe I can borrow
by chance?
‘Cause I’m not wearing
any pants.

If only laundry day
were more sacred
I wouldn’t be standing here
cold and naked.