The Dishrag

Swirling your hand around in the murky kitchen sink

You pulled out the dishrag

You wrung it out, as if you were strangling it

And used the toxic cloth to wipe up your mess

Once you tired of cleaning

You threw the dishrag on the counter

Where it dried into a stiff misshapen grotesquery

And you just left it there, abandoned

You never finished cleaning the mess you made

You just forgot all about the dishrag

But the dishrag still exists, grotesque and toxic

Wondering what happens next?

One thought on “The Dishrag

  1. Aloha, Amy — Yuk . . . I’ve seen a lot like that before I met Nancy and we got married. Love, Bill


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