The Laundry Game

When you asked to use my washing machine
I finally realized I was being used
It is a nice washing machine
It front loads.
It chimes like an early morning alarm waking me with a jolt

A jolt that feels like tripping up my apartment stairs while carrying something heavy
Like a case of bottled water or several frozen turkeys

My wrists too tired to let go
My feet have clearly given up
I tighten my abs and teeth to brace for an ungraceful landing
Tears already forming in my eyes
Instead I hit my head on pillows without pillow cases on a sheet less bed

It smells of clean laundry
I am ready to fold.
Ready to give up with each pair of black socks
Each crew neck white undershirt
Each pair of neon sport shorts

I have played the laundry game before
A light kiss to my forehead
A sweet rub to my shoulders
The entangled mess of shirt arms and pant legs now make sense
I am ready to fold.