Without transformed awareness,

memory of laundered garments

only he had ever worn

washed gratefully away

in relentless downstream focal flow.

No looking back,

without stretched-bone resistance,

without morbid former life curiosity,

what might have been more easily cleaned,

more orderly,

less intensely demanding of grateful bow and bend,

and humor,

he folds and sorts and stacks eternal piles of clothing,

tribal artifacts of young life’s costuming of choice,

hopelessly blind to maturing metamorphosis

from independent daze to cooperative desire;

images of safe prenatal isolation

weakened by EcoSelf identity

wilting prey to long distant liminal margins,

much less could he imagine alternative incarnations

more diversely paid in interdependent wealth of scents.

Cooperative laundry stewards baptize with benign common waters,

and ears harvesting harmonious information.