Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Dishwashing

a river foams white
into a blue-stained moat
and detergent’s suds pop
and dishes cling, clang, and jangle
inside the dishpan
while I listen to the faucet
as if it is the rush of a waterfall
and imagine us camping
downriver, watching otters paddle
chittering and chattering
with one another, and later
pines, junipers, and cottonwoods
bend to tolerate
a rainstorm...

until I stab my finger
with the tip of a steak knife

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April 10—water