Washing the Dishes


I hold the glass in my left hand
and the rag in my right.
The water running-
Scolding hot.
I watch the steam rise from the sink
as I dip the dish in once more,
mildly burning my skin.
My hands-
Red, wrinkled
from the uncomfortable exposure.
The plate-
clean, clear
from the soapy water.

This fragile piece
of decorated glass
can withstand the heat
pouring from the faucet
as my rough skin
of hard work and labor
aches in the process.

I’m taking a poetry class next semester and I glanced through the prompt list in the textbook, and one was to write about an every day activity. This is my first attempt at writing poetry about something non-abstract, but I still have a little metaphor going on. Let me know if you catch it πŸ™‚


25 thoughts on “Washing the Dishes

    1. I haven’t actually started the class yet, so idk how it’ll actually go. I’m afraid it’s just going to be reading poetry and talking about meter and rhyme and all that.
      But I’m thinking of working through the book’s prompts and posting them on here, maybe even challenging my followers to participate too?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I would totally participate–already am, haha. I was going to take an online open college course on poetry, and it turned out to be very basic–talking about stanzas and rhyme. I quit quite early on… But I hope your class is better.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. I thought I responded to this, but I guess not haha. I’m having a rough time keeping up with comments. But I’ve had the class twice now and it seems pretty good so far, fingers crossed! I’ll post my finished poems on here once they’ve been graded with the prompts I was given.

          Liked by 1 person

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