Washing machine sea
foamy, soapy churning
fish like a school of socks
am I shark or sand dollar
your lips sweetly sour like
laundry detergent
Washing machine sea
bubbles grey dye
turbulent tongues
taste woolly like turtlenecks
we spit the threads
clinging wetly to each other
Washing machine sea
and I scramble to driftwood
opulence rests in clenched oysters
in hot sudsy water
in self-love
I’d rather scald than indulge
clean beats the
heartfelt
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