I pause, touching the tag,
Still affixed, showing her name...
There's more in the laundry bag,
But I can't go on, just the same,
Because I choke-up,
Something inside me quavering,
When I look at the stains
On the shirt collar,
And think of her laboring
Sweat, stresses, and pains,
All at 8 minutes per dollar...
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