I never sort my clothes. Sorry, mom.
Sure, my whites gray and colors fade,
but they all go into the same load.
All share the same daily sweat and stink.
I leave them clean in a basket all week
and must sort what I may wear that day.

I’m jeans or slacks. Oxford or tee.
My socks match up—what’s beneath
nobody sees. My machine rattles
with forgotten coins, a pocket knife

I never use, the odd bolt or rock I might
pocket. Sometimes, I find crumpled bills,
all crisp after dryer cycle, a surprise
from last week. A stranger to myself,
putting money in the future’s cupped hands.

Some weeks, I fold and hand and choose
each day with the reverence of the daily
lectionary. Morning prayer as Levis.
Like words, clothes can reveal my origin
and my ends. Reveal what I love.

I’d take this shirt off and give to you.
I could be yours to sort as you please.

Jeff Newberry’s most recent book is How to Talk about the Dead (Redhawk
Publications, 2024). His writing has appeared in, or is forthcoming from
numerous print and online journals, including One, DIAGRAM, and South
Carolina Review. He can be found on Threads at @jeffnewberry and on Blue
Sky at @jeffnewberry.bsky.social.