Dry Cleaning
For Louie
The clothes go round and round
ethereal fairies flying
through the air
in their plastic sheaths but harnessed
by the curved head of the coat hanger
that super-ego of the clothes
anchoring the free-
flowing id. She desires
a brief affair, a freeing
from restraints, to leave
behind, for a short time
husband, children, routine--
but not for long; she realizes
she needs them. The movement suddenly
stops, several hangers are
removed, placed on the staid
and static hook next
to the cash register to be taken
home. Hot, she walks
down the street, arms
full of limp clothes,
their covers clinging uncomfortably
to her skin as she hugs them to her,
hangers upside down
loose and impotent. She recognizes
the very restraint
allows the clothes to dance.
Published in Poet Lore