She picked up his clothes
Odd, his ghost seemed so heavy
Wishing she had the strength to
Throw him across the room
Like his tattletalke shirt
With the lip smudge on the collar
L’Oreal…310 Drumbeat Red
Or the crumbled number
Scrawled on a matchbook cover
Cloistered in seat of his jeans
She had strength to
Erase him, in foul-smelling bleach
Drown him, in the washer
Exorcise him, in the dryer
But, she was born a woman
Weak? Submissive? Inferior?
Strong enough to do the laundry
barahh mun ki dhobun 
:S
