Dishes

I don’t remember how it started,
Or even ended,
But after dinner, and dessert,
We finished up the dishes
Silently,
In a kitchen in the midst of
Repositioning in a country school house
With twelve foot ceilings and nine foot
Windows, but no lights yet.

Your only words directed me to a
Dishtowel a room or two away;
In the dusk the hook seemed
Distant as Aldebaran, but I
Made it back in time to dry a
Shallow bowl or two, and see your
Careful hands and true
Soap, and rinse, and stack,
As though this was all
Of life.