15 March 2005

Carol Peters

Plumbing

Here is a thing I can never get used to—
standing at a kitchen sink,
squirting soap into my palm,
clasping and unclasping myself.
Who is this, all sinew and backbone?
Shoulders dipping with the motion of her hands.
Why does she want her hands clean?
What will she do next?
I don’t believe myself.
I wait
to be unmasked.

2 comments:

  1. I really like this poem, Carol.

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  2. Wonderful image, so specific, and then the last line, zowie! Splendid!

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