Mute spies.
In plain sight.

Laundry strung from house to house, half human shapes projected on poles out into the street. Sweaters and dresses flapping down, skins stretched out to dry. Dante’s Inferno. The twisted souls of sheets.
A revealing, a revelation,
of what the city
on the whole
keeps out of sight.
Conceals
but ultimately
reveals.
An exposure.
Mute spies.
In plain sight.
That hidden “underwear”
brashly on display
from balcony
and clothesline.

Ten white aprons on a line
blowing in the breeze.
Neck loops etched against the grass.
Restaurant?

Black shirts,
jeans, light or dark,
upside down on a railing.
Railroad worker?

Homespun long johns
keeping company
with a flannel nightgown.
A couple no longer young?

T-shirts,
orange, shocking pink, black, purple.
someone young,
at least in heart.

And of course, sheets.
Hung on balconies
on lines across a street
or perhaps from tree to tree.

Undifferentiated, sheets are sheets.
Nor can one gainsay
that irregardless of color
towels too are always towels.
And irregardless of color, they
are distinguished by one commonality.
The shadows that they cast
are invariably black.
Only you would think about the shadows. Lovely poem
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Phantastic composition Erika❤️you certainly leave us hanging on every word…
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Cara , as they say in German, KLEIDER MACHEN LEUTE. A thought provoking trip down memory lane.
Am wondering the kind of person INHABITING the displayed garments. Ephemeral (ghostly)
aspects of the real person ? Also conjures up images of Orvietani folk as viewable in old photos in sepia, showing LOCALS and their
“ diminished economic condition” Some things don’t change very much while at the same time, others change a great deal.
Come sempre, Abbracci forte. Csaba.
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Yes, some things change a great deal. But those people wouldn’t be hanging up their laundry.
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O I love it immensely, Cara Erika. Thank you so! Xo
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That’s fun to read Erika! And well-chosen illustrations! I like the notion of ‘mute spies’ – exactly right.
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