Fruit Of The Loom

Poem by Alexis Santos

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The window of my job is bedazzled with fly carcass
flattened between the screen
and some life worth laying eggs in 
it’s usually on my lunch break
I can see right through their make shift mausoleum
to our neighbors clothes line 
 
like a bird watcher
 
through the kaleidoscope binoculars
there’s always the camisole blushed with cinnamon 
the pencil shaving duvet slip
checkered boxer shorts swaying like sheet music 
caught in the breeze
a starched parade for September’s finale