Down dark cobbled back streets, clothes lines stretched 
across cohorts of back yards, on Washing Day.
Regiments of white bed sheets hoisted high
flapping like flags,  in threatening skies 
supported by proud, 
immoveable clothes props. 
Garments not daring to fly loose, 
Straddled by dolly pegs 
forced down hard.

Above boiling bleach buckets  
Malevolent steam swirled, silently seethi...

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