oh the horror

think of
the dryer
swallowing
socks: maybe
the hunger
will soon be
sated; maybe
their lint now
floats across
lawns unseen,
maybe
the socks
are better off
wherever they go,
nothing holding
them back
from doing
what must
be done in
that alien space
they now call
home, damp,
empty, alone,
footless & cold