kitchen song

porcelain shattered
sparkling white fragments, scattered,
emulating lace with
brown linoleum floor peeking through.
the bowl now holds
the entire room.

it went from hand
to air
to ground,
down,
and spread
like butter.
ha.

then,
hands on hips
pounding faces
voices, like
heavy bass and
careening violin
switch on,
a melody of pain,
dissonance in every measure.
but the beat goes on.

she continues to wash the dishes.
scrubbing away red specks of food
washing it all
down the drain
swirling suds
running faucet
running over the hands
she watches so as not to look up.

then,
apron front damp
and old stiff broom in hand
she bends over
to pick up the pieces
again.

Kim Khanh Nguyen

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