The colour of towels
hang in my house
down, like waterfall
from door-corners and window sills.
Some outside
some on racks
All open mouthed
spread welcome.
I have paintings also. They are static.
The towels move around.
They’re the colours of angels
blessing a clothesline
or bedroom floor.
If I’m wet they dry me
if they’re wet I dry them
It’s a good arrangement.
They smile at me, and often
break into laughter
when I attempt folding
they think it’s a hoot
trying to fold away colour
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