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.