Published September 15th, 2025
by Breanna Scott
In the laundry room – we don't exist.
Time taps at the door,
drowned out by the machines conversing –
a dance of click, hum, tick, woosh.
The air is heavy with forbidden anticipation,
from starving our bodies
of something as thrilling as touch.
I swallow to break the silence.
Lowering to my heels, you mirror it.
I can hear your breath. I worry if you can hear mine –
hear it shudder and catch
as we slip my clothes into the basket, one by one.
The anticipation grows like a magnet,
your unruly fingers down my spine –
arching each vertebrae out of place.
Oh, how they whisper to me,
louder than the guilt ever could.
About the Poet
Breanna Scott resides in Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada.
Read the poet's biography and Wax Poetry and Art Publications on
Breanna Scott's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Poetry World #13,
published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Vancouver Island Poetry Magazine:
Westwood Lake – A Pastoral Elegy
by Lawrence Winkler
Vancouver Island Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
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