Dishes

The dishes pile up stained with the day to day of life Her hands are chapped and dry withered from washing them Dishes of food, dishes of mundanity relentless dishes calling to be cleaned Dishes prepared with love dishes for the family dishes smashed in anger, broken in frustration the dishes are her forte, she knows the dishes well her hands are red and inflamed sore from scrubbing at the remnants of her life how many dishes has she washed anyway how many hours of her life has she lost Unseen she scurries and tidies washing and drying, washing and dryng swallowing her rage and her long lost dreams The dishes are her forte, she knows the dishes well the dirt, the leftovers, the many requests of her washing and drying, washing and drying but nobody cares to notice