Standing at My Kitchen Sink Doing Dishes-

again.

They insist on getting dirty and one of us has to wash them. Well, we don’t

have to— I know this to be true because I have a crazy great-aunt who doesn’t wash any dishes; she buys everything disposable. Some people say this is bad for the environment but I say

she is not so crazy because

I

hate

doing

dishes.

The hot water tap groans if you set it too low, and the cold water tap shrieks, too. This is backwards, I thought hot would shriek and cold would groan

…wouldn’t the world make more sense that way?

The chlorine steams up from the drain like a chemical peel and I reminded again

of where I am                                 which is not

my home in the country,                which is not

my lovers home in the mountains, which is not

my home at school.                                It is

my friend’s apartment where I sleep in the living room

because I am poor. I shouldn’t be poor

because I work…but I am also a student and

the latter is not the lesser...

Under this hot water, I can feel my nails getting soft and there is a dried on

speck of hard on food, on this bowl

of course it would be hard on there like a stupid man

you can’t get rid of no matter how many times

a week you hate him. I slam the bowl on the counter and smash my fingers and curse.

My mother taught me not to curse.