On a Washing Machine

On a Washing Machine
by Cody Clarke

On a washing machine
phone to ear

listening to passionless words
from the passionless voice
of the woman you love

calling only to inform you
that she feels something
she cannot fully describe
other than that it is bad

and that she would like to
at some point
have a conversation
about this
but not now

not when you are taken aback
frantic to help
to fix
to save

not now
but when she is ready
when she can find it in her schedule
to cry.

When you are off the washing machine
and on a couch in your home
eating watermelon
piece by piece
relishing in its
reliable sweetness

you receive a text on your phone
from this allegedly wronged woman
that she could not sleep
without telling you she loves you
and to have a good night

and you text her back
that you love her
and wish her a good night
as you are supposed to

while any bitterness
or hurt you feel
must be thrown out with the rinds.

This is what you must do.

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2 Responses to On a Washing Machine

  1. slpmartin says:

    Okay…I did have to laugh as I read your poem and the story it wove…I do recall such fickled communications in my own past.

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