Object Poem.

Laundry. I wash Clothes and they’re so dirty Fermented in a faint scent reminiscent of dank basements.   I haven’t done this in a while as my nostrils inform me Of this heaping pile Like bodies.     Now, like a giant Monster really ready to eat my whole day in one fickle bite;    Oh, there you are You have the next 5,000 loads Good day to you who just walked in the door.