Dirty laundry told me a story
about the famous question.
 
After you sweat, God forbid,
my black and white stain
is returned to me, a casket
fond of clean chances.
 
This level of care can wonder –
a little dream, a cheap guide.
 
Come out, disappear, stretch:
ask the time inside-out,
the color soft.
 
Shrinking, your body says,
scared, among silks,
outrageous somewhere
with clouds of smoke.
 
So breathe. Wonder. As if
an at-home presto! is free
of limitation.
 
I have dust settled
on mishaps, the twist
in theory only.
 
 
 
 
This erasure poem is based on “So How the #%*& do I clean It?” by Jane Keltner de Valle. Glamour, September 2014, pages 182-186.