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washed towels
table topped; ready for the fold
one by one succeeding
neatly into stacks by zeal of shade and texture
forming mountains by size,  shape and country
of origin –
washed again in separation to be (or not to be!!!)
methodically  mustarded once more
as before,
stand straight, upright
in perfect alignment, “magnifique my guard, magnifique!”
 
across  perfection runs a dirty little thought
surrender  -” white only”
“Never!!” I cry, “Never, Never
and Never!!!”
I can do this….
 
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010
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