Laundry Day

Hanging the laundry without you.

Simply lifeless clothes

these metal rods feel aseptic

an operating table

trying to vivisect my soul

careless, it didn’t ask for permission

instead

holograms of you make me deeply shiver

shake from the middle of my spine

with you, the colors were alive

stories were dripping from them

like drops of blood from my unstitched chest

Is this my real home?

Is it my real blood type?

My habitual thoughts are begging me

to not let these feelings take over me

but then i remember

that i was born with that August warmth 

of a Rome that was on fire

and this is what my soul is hungry for.

G.