11
Apr
09

untitled 3- 4/10/09

It’s a surreal experience

To fold and put away

My daughter’s laundry

When she is not here

With me,

But is with her mother

Instead.

And in my bedroom,

In a neatly folded pile,

A few pieces

Of my girlfriend’s clothes

Sit waiting,

Like me,

For her return-

The delicate

Pieces of lace and silk

Beside the jeans

And the sweaters.

I miss them both

And yet

They still have a very real presence in my cramped little world.

In so many ways

It makes complete sense

That the women  I love

Are not here-

The poetic irony

Is rich

And certainly does not go unnoticed

Or un-felt.

Timothy Vance Jackson

April 10, 2009

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