Pink Sock


You went missing as you traveled
with towels and t-shirts down the hall.

I consider your whereabouts,
knowing you are near.

You could have slipped out early in the journey
hitting the hardwood to be kicked aside to a dark space in between.

You could have missed the dryer
only inches to the north muscled out by oversized cotton.

You could have missed the crossing
and sit silent, collecting dust behind the hamper.

You could be waiting, held captive clinging
while your partner faithfully waits, with others of his kind.