Each Epiphany starting at dusk,
the neon sign across the street un-blinks
Park Avenue Cleaners, and reads -Eaners
just ahead of closing. Clothing soon to be
clean-pressed by hand awaits the see-through sleeve
and wire hanger, the mainstays of the shop,
now a stray two syllables alerting
the population to bring in wads of
worn outfits, and deposit those clothes
into canvas bags the color of buildings
midway between rain and snow in some city
where we likely will escape this parallel
betweenness and scheme our lives away from
some sacrament of Penance to make us clean.
.
Sheila E. Murphy
.