We watch from the window, hoping for darkness.
The cook gets the credit, no matter the mess.
We're up to our elbows in grease and grey soap.
We try not to drop all our clattering bones,
The slippery glasses that fracture when rinsed,
The thundering copper that won't fit the sink.
We're proud and we're lonely. We're wet and we're bored.
We imagine all the arguments we'll win
When the world becomes suddenly fairer, when
We're no longer the ones who lose every war
Over who is worth more and who is ignored.
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