Secret Life of Socks

Response poem to Sauce Box’s delightful Sockatory


Mateless socks

are starting to pile up

one by one

in the top dresser drawer.

They are starting to crowd out

much more sensible

granny panties

Disturbing the peace

with their weepy support groups

and speed dating nights

I am starting to suspect

that their missing mates paired up

and moved to a more tropical climate

or maybe Seattle

My single color anklets

appear to have run off with dashing ankle socks

Rumor has it that the missing purple Monet sock

was quite the cad

Were my missing socks bored with monogamy?

Or were they conflicting with much too similar mates

and just needed some space?

The mystery continues as my bras

consider interclothing dating

and communal living arrangements

but they acknowledge that socks are flighty lovers

who cannot be relied upon

14 thoughts on “Secret Life of Socks

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