I drowned my lover

evil error, strange sad mistake

errant thought of neatness for this Christmas Eve alone

Rose up in predawn black, seized laundry bags

stuffed plump with sundry stockings, silk socks, underwear

in dimness quick turned back, yanked off lone green pillowcase

grabbed solitary red bath towel, the single purple wash cloth too

All feeling oddly heavy in my arms but still I persevered

new notions on the rise of doing lighter coloured washing too

later on, why not? despite the holy day

if I were brisk enough right now, got mostly done while all was dark

(all dark, all ever dark, but should seek order, light, perhaps?)

Returned to wash machine at end of its swift-shaking final swirl

gripped hard white lid, reached in, discovered —

current night companion! once sole purview of my lost love

heavy curvy magic bag

that, warmed up, softly soothed his many scars

helped ease his wounds, his aches and stabbing pains

and now, alone, has six years warmed my empty bed

Not because the weather here was cold —

except within — the magic heat a comfort

ritual . . . a presence, radiating a kind of tiny magic life

Is magic bag destroyed? and by my stupid dimlit act?

is sodden magic washed out now? all gone?

Should it be tumble dried? Suspended? Thrown away?

Don't know — can't know

must try to rally, resurrect

Time, cruellest storyteller

will coldly tell the tale