Chinese Laundry, Chicago
In a storefront laundry
on North Clark Street
brown draperies release
this quiet man
who has my shirts.
He smiles and bows-
how carefully
he wraps them.
Before the draperies
fall back, I see,
for a moment,
in a circle swirling
almost out of sight
three kerchiefed women,
glistening black,
bending, grabbing, sorting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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