WASHING ON THE LINE Poem by Borben Vladović

Backyards of the poor by the railway
were cut by
washing lines with clothes drying.
Women's wet hearts were drying
and the frozen legs of trousers.
Train carriages were
making a noise and in their reflecting windows
clothes were fluttering and travelling
instead of their owners.
Passengers
get their eyes, hands, ears,
mouths covered, but not their noses
so they can smell their destination
piled with neat clothes