I found laundry filled the line. Removed
black panties in frantic dance, pirate flags
spanking sky above a rigid plank —
just enough space for head, throat.
Pinned them flimsily to a graying rope.
Held brief sway over wicker baskets
of adjectives and rank complaints
against a miasmatic world.
On my descent, a passing t-shirt read,
Life smells fresh as fabric softener.