we hide until the
seeking collapses
like the fading
wave of a whistle
losing steam, no finders
no keepers, no search parties
or weepers, no lamppost
posters, we are through
we are not thunder-prodded dogs
or heirloom jewels, just thrown
webs of bare threads
the world out there losing
proteins and hair, working on
without us, we got chloroplasts
rubbed in, stitches giving up
and letting go, and so many holes
escape hatches for toes
rambling woods, thorn
snagged and foot rubbed raw
well heeled, woolen tube
and cotton wall exposed
to mud spit puddle
adventurous that one time in
catshit bubblegum sandbox
and yet, we don’t
just disappear, we bug out
nesting in dryer sheets and lint
housing lifetimes of spiders, moths
and mice, we contemplate whatever
became of our inseparable mates
Ah, the ultimate mystery! (I always suspected they did it on purpose.)
ReplyDeleteYou are lucky; losing a pair of socks is better than just one! You keep that lone sock thinking its brother will turn up but it never does.
ReplyDeleteDoes anyone remember the darning egg of long ago used for darning holes in socks. Oh my ! Times have changed.
ReplyDeleteI do, Bev! I still have my Mum's and my Nana's, both of which I inherited, stashed away, but it's a good few years since I used them.
DeleteI've heard of them, but never say one. Even my mother and grandmother didn't darn socks. My grandmother refused, said she's just buy new socks instead!
Deleteoh yes, they walk out while we are sleeping. :)
ReplyDeleteloved your poem!
I love it! I, like Old Egg, have several socks that have been awaiting their mates for too long! But, you know socks, as soon as you throw one out the other appears. I had a comic years ago where explorers crested a hill and below them, "We found it! We found it! The Valley of Lost Socks!"
ReplyDeleteThe lost socks!! Mine are under the agitator in our washing machine ... I just know they are. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteI think a lot of them really do get caught in washing machines. Maybe they plan it!
ReplyDelete