My clothes were clean

My clothes were clean

I thought until I saw

the one, the ones

in the white garments

walk past me. I turned

to see the whiteness,

a glistening in crystal air,

 a motion flashing past,

I looked down to see

my clothes were not clean.

Photograph by Kondo Yukihiro via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The white room

We sit in a long white room

at either end of a long white table

tableclothed in white, white dishes

and white utensils, servants dressed

in white. The table is too long

for conversation, so we sit

in the long white room, listening

to white noise playing softly.

Only the painting of a red square

in its white frame on the white wall

breaks the whiteness. We look

at the centerpiece, a white vase

of white chrysanthemums. We watch

the room dissolve, fade to white.