All Washed Up

Two rubber gloves hang discarded
Cling to the plate rack of pine
Empty palm turned to the tiles
Waiting for a water ball

Two rubber gloves hang discarded
No purpose for us to observe
Sadly exhibiting usage
Victims of the dishwasher call

Two rubber gloves hang discarded
Colours faded fingers worn
One springs a hole in the thumb
It’s partner hears the bin fall

One rubber glove hangs discarded
Pale lonely for her pigeon pair
Lost in the drain of life’s chaos
Newly single no purpose at all

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2009