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Laundry Day
Dust rises from the dirty sheets
Like heat off a radiator.
Their stained surfaces ripple,
Murmuring the song of the eastern winds.
I am tired,
But I ignore the heat in my shoulders as I beat,
Fighting the gales
With my cloth-bourne sails
Threatening to drag me away.
Stained with the soot of the earth,
White origins eroded to a dry tan
Through the battering of daily use.
I shake them out,
Hoping to restore some of their clarity,
But iron-stains remain.
The whispering wind cuts shallow,
Rousing the dust off the surface
To float on the gusts,
Carried away over the horizon
Like the final rays of sunlight
As evening approaches.
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