Hung Out to Dry

This ragged shining,
these embodied nothings
are the image of us:

full of ourselves
in every puff of air
and hanging on

for dear life. At mid-day,
when the wind picks up,
such dancing. Look at us:

washed and stretched
to the very limit,
almost touching one another.


A Few Last Lines of Laundry, by Eamon Grennan


A few bread crumbs to follow into the past:

one year ago...
other days, other laundry...
same poet, different wind...
every shirt has a story...