We’re almost to the end of this poeming month. I am a bit weary, as I generally feel by this point, but know I will miss the daily struggle for words once the prompting is over, save for the weekly stretch.

The prompt today is to write a “mechanical” poem.

jackthumm, via


Isn’t it strange,
the way ones body
can simply go on
even in the face of the most
horrendous stress.

How strange,
surreal, even,
to be standing at the sink
calmly washing dishes
when my whole
has turned
completely upside down.

I feel almost as if
I am watching myself
from above
or behind,
slightly off center.

I feel numb,
but somewhere,
deep inside,
there is a howl
trying to escape.

And so I continue
the mechanical
Swirling the warm soapy water.
Sudsing the plate/cup/spoon,
and rinsing in water so hot
it leaves my hands scalded,
yet untouched,
because the real pain
isn’t on the outside.


3 thoughts on “Mechanical

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