Laundry (working title)

It takes but a moment
and I am lost in the world.
It feels like a moment
the hours lost in myself.

Folding in for years.
I'm filled with so many creases.
Daunting—— to iron them out.
It'll take ample heavy heat.
But will I die, swollen from gout,
with my laundry, folded and neat?
Or is it but an instant
to shake this body out.

A delightful tumult.