Queen of the Coin Laundry
Ten p.m. and the neon flickers, humming over cracked linoleum tile,
She hauls a bag of bloodied shirts—coins stolen from an old man’s
smile.Nails chipped the color of rage, her jaw set harder than the night,
She’s got a scar running down her arm—a roadmap of every fight.The
machines rumble with secrets, cycles spinning sin and stain,
She scrapes the soap from the barrel’s edge
and curses every name.The kids outside whisper stories,
but know not to cross her gaze,
She folds her past in bleach-soaked hands,
sets her future ablaze.Worship is just another load—white lies, grey sheets,
red wine,
Her panties have been through hell and back,
but still outshine.She dares the world to meet her eyes,
mascara running with sweat and smoke,
Laughs when the preacher’s wife glares,
flips her off beneath the coke.Her lips are stitched with hymns unsung,
her rage a suit she wears with grace,
Gods ignore her, men adore her,
but none can stand in her place.She bleaches out confessions,
wrings the shame from every thread,
Folds memories like war-time flags,
then smokes beside the dead.The change machine is always empty—like her patience,
like her trust,
She sharpens every quarter on her tongue,
and counts the price of lust.She isn’t clean, she isn’t tame,
she’s brass and bleach and bladed wit,
She loads the washer with last week’s sins
and dares the stains to quit.She’s crowned by steam, baptized in spit,
a martyr of the rinse and spin,
Her laughter like a thunderclap—the warning of a storm within.
Queen of the coin laundry—she makes her kingdom out of heat and foam,
Detergent, teeth, and battle lines—she carves her power in this home.You laughed
until she kissed your throat, wiped her hands on your regret,
Now every step inside her world is one you won’t forget.She’s not the housewife,
not the saint, not the bitch who’ll beg for more,
She’s sovereign of the grime and flame,
she’ll pin you to the door.She folds your threats in half
and burns your comfort by the sheet,
And when you try to break her crown,
she’ll make you kneel in defeat.Queen of the coin laundry—she rules with fire, grit,
and spite,
You tried to break her—but you learnedShe’ll make you sit and stay all night.