[014, Clandestine]
the clandestine launderette
People have secrets.
people are beasts in clothes,
monsters dressed in fanciful attire.
A woman is a serpent with a sense of
what to wear and what to spare.
But clothes have secrets, too.
the launderette beats the secrets from the clothes,
washes clandestine confessions from the sheets.
she presses kimonos, who tell tales of scandals,
rags that weep of poverty.
and so she weeps along with them,
bitter tears and soapy water, bombers bombing,
Hiroshima weeps with her, together and alone,
one washes, the other dies,
and both sink in secrets.
