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Why must you aggravate me so?
In the dryer,
you unabashedly gather up
all the other laundry,
ball it up inside you,
and make sure
it stays damp.
And the effort it takes
to make you unhand
the rest of the laundry
is ridiculous.
What is that about?
Let go.
Those are not your towels.
Finally out of the dryer,
you are impossible to fold.
And don't tell me
I don't know how.
I match up your corners.
I tuck them together.
I even let you be
whatever that is
you are in the middle.
Then I fold you in thirds,
fold you in half,
and somehow
you still look like
I balled you up
and shoved you
in the closet
with zero effort.
I TRIED.
Don't even get me started
on putting you on the bed.
Please explain
how you have
three wrong sides.
Three.
I put one corner on.
Wrong.
Turn you.
Wrong.
Turn you again.
STILL WRONG.
You have four corners.
The mattress has four corners.
What the hell
is happening here?
Eventually,
I get you on.
You stretch across the mattress
and fit to perfection.
Smooth.
Tight.
Secure.
Look at you.
Acting like we didn't
just go through all that.
And everything is fine
until I roll over
at 3 a.m.
POP.
Off comes a corner.
I cannot with you.
And sir,
please explain your behavior
when it's time
to take you off the mattress
and wash you again.
NOW you can hold on?
Now you cling to those corners
like life itself
will come to an end
if you let go?
I pull.
You cling.
I pull harder.
You cling harder.
What the…
Please explain.
And while you're at it,
where was
all this dedication
to the mattress
at 3 a.m.
when I simply
rolled
over?
Denise Govan Books