Found this old installation again. "Hanging" written in February 2010. #poetry #poem The sound of whirring dryer used to wake me up every morning. It was you- and your desperate need of pressed clothes. The buzz has vanished, Yet I am still awake before dawn. Then…instead, I hear them dangling. Those hangers! -that used to grasp: Your favorite blazer I picked, the gray sweatshirt for Christmas , and the t-shirt you hate. Until you left them hanging, just hanging, I could feel their longing, even for your distracting jacket. by janebeatrix