Issue 10

Winter 2014


Emptying the Dishwasher

Put your finger on the mug,
you know the one, the tiny chip
you feel for in the rim.

Lift it by the handle.
Allow yourself to stroke
its slipperiness, sniff bleached lemon

as you set it down
extreme left of the wooden shelf
salvaged from the Paris flat.

Everything in its place:
the rim, the chip; the rented room
on the Place Sainte Opportune
where someone else is washing up
a matching pair of breakfast cups.


Sue Kindon