so shake-your-head good
the tongue savors the glaze
while the teeth attack another
I know this because I wash dishes
here bus the plates into the kitchen
press my fingers to the crumbs
and let them melt in my awareness
roll my eyes and wonder
how they make them
oh sorry I’m talking about
the great poetry I read and
the dishes I seem to discover
and as I load the dishwasher
I hesitate to close its door
Not yet ready
To wash away the taste
To shut down the magic
to add soap and push
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