Rinse

Member since 2003 · Posted 19 Feb 2004 · 2 comments

Cups slick-shined, Sinking in the soap, With wrinkled hands, Holding and splashing Beneath the faucet, Leaking and dripping Hot water like this Moment was a ripple And nothing that happens now Will ever flow upstream to Catch us offguard With our gloves off Reaching for Shards of glass With scalded hands Through rose-red water, Spreading and melding. Still you smile, Then grimace, As you grab hold and pull Breaking for the surface. Broken glass and rose-red water Are merely momentary lapses. You must wash those dishes.

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mean 5.86 weighted 5.23 rank 4239 views 193 View voting details →

7 votes so far. Yours would make 8.7 votes so far

2 comments

[1] ?-Dave_Mysterious-? 19-Feb-04/7:14 PM Reply

This poem made me remember how excellent I am.

[8] Shuushin 19-Feb-04/7:36 PM Reply

Not as bad, I think, as the scores you have thus far.

I will total them and add one for good luck. eight.