Alejandro Ruiz del Sol

When I Dream of Laundry, This Tether Sways above Me

I’d fold for my tether, I’d
sleep on the wooden floor
below my tether. Use my finger
tips to teach myself routines. I
feel rhythms when
I dream of laundry. When,
when can I feel free? How,
how do I learn to say hello?

again and again.

This is dedicated
to when memories
beget memories. Dedicated
to bedsheets on floors,
a neglected kid who lies
about having bad days.

I’m with you, I’ll
climb my tether.

Kid, would it be terrible to hear
how I occupy rooms?
How I pick the green off bread?
Lay on floors just to imagine
a tether swaying above me?
I’d love it if I could
snore slowly. Instead

I wake up to a sea of
backwashed beer cans and
the buzz of streetlamps,
knocking sheets around
wondering how much longer?

how much soap? The delicate cycle?
The laundromat? The quarters? The road
I walk to get home?

I’ll climb my tether, kid. And,
it might break, and

I’d only know the world
ended if there were no
more sheets to fold.

What are my options then? Paint
model cars? Press
flowers into books?


Alejandro Ruiz del Sol is from the Tampa Bay area. Currently, he is an MFA candidate at New Mexico State University where he is Assistant Poetry Editor for Puerto del Sol. He has been previously published in Barren Magazine.