Nicole Siciliano is a public relations professional working in financial services in New York City. She turns to creative writing and poetry as a hobby  to rediscover the softness and vulnerability of everyday life that can oftentimes be overlooked by its mania. She is most often inspired by the power of the shared experience. A graduate of Stony Brook University and New York University, She currently resides in Astoria, Queens.


When my grandfather died,
my grandmother slept with his pillow
for ten years.

Even after the sheets were washed,
she swore she could still smell him.

And I think about this as I fall asleep
your side of the bed.

You’re not dead. You’re just
somewhere else.

But I’ve been trying to calculate
the mathematical probability of
meeting you again
in a subway car

and I know that you are just as gone
as the melancholy branches on my family tree.


I still count the skyscrapers
between my office building and yours.

I daydream the quiet of your bedroom
before the crash of your alarm.

I do the crossword.

I watch the news.


I started doing my own laundry



[image: city mornings | scott w. h. young]

One thought on “Laundry

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