Soap suds peel her turmeric-stained fingers. Yet, the smell lingers:
On trendy double strollers and rush-hour PATH train ‘muters
From closets meant for brooms to suited conference rooms.
Karma police ambush from a distant radio. Head spins faster than afternoon treasures:
Speckled rocks and fallen sticks hidden safe in pockets
Of winter jackets tossing madly in a heaving dryer.
She carelessly knots pretty bows in plastic. An offering:
Banana peels and bones, limp cucumbers,
Elmo diapers, half-eaten candy wrappers
to the electric fire gods.
It is time again to face her nemesis. “Nothing stainless about steel”, she huffed and she scrubbed:
Straining to see a reflection
Of she in a sink