On this porch for years we had a wringer washing machine, a loud demoniac contraption that vibrated and thumped as it played our clothes. I toyed with it, but one day it ate my arm all the way to the elbow, suddenly, like a tame tiger that takes a moment to grab the child. Neighbors gathered, and my father had to take the monster apart to release me.
After that I wore a sling
and sidled by to give the thing
my widest berth-
even when it was quiet I knew it poised to spring.
One thought on “Laundry Porch”
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