Laundry Quatrains

1

The washer's water rushes as it soaks
The same as ever–droning, eddying
Then whistling when it drains, as though it spoke
With just the dryer; me: said not a thing.

And nothing said to me seemed fittingly 
Displaced among this lonely night; so pure
It flowed and washed so unremittingly
I thought myself upon the river's shore.

So tell me does the river carry names
Along if lovers bundle them with tears,
Or like my washer is it all the same–
Awash downstream with nothing more to hear?

2

My dryer roars and rumbles fissure-like
In heated animation; nothing more
In my apartment makes a sound, unlike
My heart which pounds and turns inside my core.

So like a quake and like my dryer, this
My heart is shaking too; and warm, alone,
But warm because of you; and though I miss
You how it jumps, excited to be known.