Hand Laundry

She wears purple flowers
near her vulva.
They scatter carelessly
on black satin
or white lace,
depending on her mood.
She wears panties
as thin as a lie;
mesh
thong
crotchless.
I shouldn't know these things.
But I do.
I know when
someone made her wet.
I know her smell.
I know when blood comes;
staining like an inkblot,
or a trail marker.
She wears
cantilever bras.
Bras that
silently say
touch me
take this.
I shouldn't know these things.
But I do.
She does not care
what I know or do not know
about her.
What matters is that I know
Woolite is for fine washables.
What is important
is I fold
and store
her life
her sex
in the right place,
and keep my mouth shut.