Shoulders curled forward.

Elbows bent like the arm of a chair.

Hands sinking repeatedly

into the warm water below.

Suds drape like glistening gloves

highlighting individual fingertips.

Staring out the window

dreaming in another time.

The mundane routine

drifting from consciousness.

I wonder what other women

have stood here and thought

while handing plate over plate

onto the rack to my left.

Gazing out

letting their eyes rest over

the countryside

allowing themselves to ponder

a different day–a different story.

The sink empties.

The water slowly lowers

itself down the pipe

as the silky bubbles

start to file down my hands to join

the final parade.

My mind snaps back.

Reality fades in as I turn from the kitchen sink

and into a afternoon.


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