2.05.2008

super fantastic huge-ass tuesday


I stroke the pots,
scrub the ladle,
watch the shine
brighten,
the hot water swirl
white with suds

it is a meditation-
the ceaseless
circular
scrub

quietude lurks in
the rush of water
and the heat
steamed up the kitchen

there is space enough
for hiding
within the fog
of domesticity
where I neednít bother
being anyone
to anyone

I can drift
inside
and stand
ignored
and pretend
for a moment
that I am elsewhere.

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