F: Dishwashing Competition Poem by Margaret Alice

For me it’s a meditation
I do it slowly, lovingly
crying if I need to
or singing softly

But when Hans and Thea
come visiting dishwashing
becomes a competition, how fast
how many, in how short a time

In and out of the basin
in one sweeping movement
no time for quiet contemplation
I have to compete or be left behind

Forget silent action, sweet dedication
to thorough peacefulness,
my innocuous alienation - an escape
from too many people -

Is taken from me!
I rack my brains to
offer amiable conversation
without touching upon

The sweet elation
of the unknown
and strange
mystery…