Kitchen Prayer Altar

pale porcelain
basin–
scratched and
stained
with passing time;
water falls
over
this altar
where
full tummies
offer
food scraps
and
quenched tongues
pour
liquid remains
down endless drains…
hands
dip
in warm
soapy water—
wash away
remnants
of
surfeit;
and brown
eyes haunt
as evidence
of our
excess
disappears.

Written in response to this week’s poetry prompt over at Seedlings in Stone.

Comments

  1. says

    I liked this…

    “liquid remains
    down endless drains…”

    And, yes, the poem leads. (So I need to remember that now as I try to write a Living Room poem and don’t want to at all, because I feel I have nothing to say. 🙂

  2. says

    We need to find the grace in these altars of our constant serving and washing, adds to the glamour of dishpan hands 🙂
    I wrote about the laundry room tub in a similar vein months ago… the slosh and soil of being alive.

  3. says

    Ooops…realized I was logged into my old blogger account, that’s why I deleted the other response.

    My dear friend…. It seems like forever since I’ve been able to visit with you. I’ve missed you…

    Life has taken over as summer crept up on the scene.

    I’ve not been visiting blogs as much nor writing….

    I miss it… I miss your words….

    How are you?

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