the belt is fraying around the drum,
but the dial clicked forward anyway
i know what i was built to do
take the soaked, heavy things
and turn them light again

so the motor groans awake
the metal rattles on the concrete floor
i go through the revolutions
spinning, tumbling,
yet leaving everything damply dry

the heat element gave up halfway through
leaving only the motion behind
just the rhythm of falling and lifting,
the mechanical memory of a job
that used to warm the room

and still, when the timer runs out,
the buzzer sounds
like it accomplished something