For A Minimal Fee - Poem by Patti Masterman
Dishwashing therapy I’d swear by-
Alone, in the kitchen, I stand;
Warm soapy water runs down the dishes,
And, armed with sponge in hand,
I wrestle my inner demons; the
Occasional tear drips down
Into the muddied waters, all
My sorrows go swirling down.
I know my face is crinkling;
The muscles all tight and tense.
With wet cheeks and the sniffles,
I try to find life’s recompense.
The sink’s all empty by the time
I’ve laid my grief aside.
The dishes are clean and so my soul-
New peace welling up inside.
So if you’re feeling downcast
And everything seems bleak-
Just dump all of your sorrows
Straight into the kitchen sink
(For me the treatment is free of course-
But I’ll send you my bill next week) .
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