My Washing Line Poem by Phil Soar

The towels and underwear were there
T-Shirts red and blue
Knickers not quite clean enough
The faintest shades of poo
Socks that still held memories
Of dog shit I had stepped in
And some things I had never washed
But had left with the bed linen
Some stains needed oxi-clean
But still the mess had lingered
Stains of a really awful kind
From things that I have fingered
My arse, my nose, my mouth, my toes
And some unmentional places
If former lovers saw the signs
I'm sure they'd have red faces
The evidence might have faded now
And it's thanks to a box of Tide
But some of the stains might show themselves
As the clothes all hang outside