by James Dewey
kids out, dishes in
she slumps at the table
smearing a dollop of peanut butter as far as it will smear
and listening to the dishwasher
clean dishes dirty
dirty dishes clean
clean dishes dirty
dirty dishes clean
and she’s somewhere in between
suddenly standing
suspecting something in the cycles
in the mutter of tupperware drums, she
woosh-opens the dishwasher door
plates stop their tribal romp in mid-step, sweat
dripping from perfect bodies
monkey cups shiver in the alien breeze
knives breathe
everyone
is staring
at her staring face
Why do you get jungle? she asks
but only the heat-an animal tongue-responds
enwombing her neck, lips,
ears
she flips the switch
secret rites resume
soon the rhythm is a room
soon the rhythm is a room
soon the rhythm is a room
chants dancing
in steam and rain
James Dewey is a Master's student in Portuguese at BYU. Dewey founded The Poetaster Project. In his spare time, he travels to Mozambique.