Cleaning

I wander about

washing machines,

wondering

at the ethics of

toploaders –

their trickle down economy

so dependent upon bottom up

agitation,

the morality

of bleach silencing

the accusations

whistleblowing

hampers make.

Will it be the dog fur’s

breeze knitted net,

hid behind the

firewall of the washer’s

leveling foot,

that’ll fill my

horizon,

when this head hits the

floor?

I don’t think they’ll need

their white

gloves then.