domestic

sisters washing dishes

there are people moving,
arguing, laughing around them

but for the sisters,
only suds popping slow and
dull dish clinks

as if a spell has been cast.
as if they are filled with the warm water;
the task is inside the sisters.

brushing wet onion from plates,
each staring out the window above the sink,
each staring at a different plot of sky,

handing each other pans to dry.

 

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