The passing of secret signals by washing

On the balcony I hung a white sheet
it curled up onto the roof as a sail
with the sound of clapping.

I hung a pink waffle towel
it had been given to me
like the organs of my body
by my mother.

I hung clothes for running
with cryptic pockets and pillowcases
from which the chubby pillows had been delivered.
And I hung socks that said to each other
o yes, I spent many years in the belly of a shoe.

Sometimes on the line I hung sad underwear.

And on the seventh day I pegged out
a red and white striped shirt
that bore a small monogram saying HERO
and the shirt on the line waved its arms and sang
come into my life like a pirate.