In response to: https://wp.me/p1GTyJ-8MX
Elizabeth Bishop (1911 –1979)
This poem is written for the dVerse Poetics challenge inspired by Elizabeth Bishop
The Bus Stop Laundry
The bench is sticky
with old rain and soda rings.
A timetable peels at the corners,
sunburned into guesswork.
Someone has dropped a mitten—
child-sized, red once,
now the color of tired apples.
A woman waits beside me
with a basket balanced on her knee.
Not groceries—
laundry.
Damp shirts breathe out soap and rust.
One sleeve trails like a tongue
touching the pavement.
She keeps smoothing the pile
though it will wrinkle again.
Her thumbnail is cracked,
crescented with blue thread.
Every few minutes she checks the road,
not for the bus exactly—
more for permission.
Across the street
the laundromat door yawns open.
Machines thump steadily,
white moons turning behind glass.
A sign flickers:
OPEN
OPEN
O—
Inside the basket
a small sock clings to a towel,
won’t let go.
She doesn’t separate them.
She lets them ride together.
When the bus comes
it sighs like it’s been carrying this day too long.
She rises, careful not to spill
what is already damp, already worn.
As she steps aboard
the mitten slips from the bench.
I pick it up.
It is still warm.
Someone, somewhere,
has folded this life once.
Someone has counted socks.
Someone keeps things together
when they could easily be lost.
💫Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫
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