The Laundry Room

She measures his time With the soft sounds of the machines, The whirr, The small thumps, The humming. Her husband Sleeps in their darkened room Just down the hall Room 217 From my mother’s, Room 221. Before- Her five-bedroom And all the kids The big laundry room Where she spent Hours with the scents And touches Fluffing, folding Carefully into piles- Like she does now But with one small load Over and over Watching and guarding Carefully keeping his moments Going one at a time With the turning And tumbling While he sleeps.