Dishwasher

The dishwasher watches, waits confounded
as knuckles redden and waterlogged fingers
scrub and rub in a slick soapy dance.
Later I will explain to the machine
that it was made by atheists to replace prayer.
Meanwhile bubbles pop their silent hallelujahs.
Hands toil at their holy work.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace