When I’m sorry I wash dishes
+ + +Your casserole dish takes the longest:it has some baked-in crust from when youcooked chicken last night. Washing itallows me to think about this poem’s titleand the first few lines. Now that I’vewritten them down, I’ve forgotten the rest.
+While scraping at something with my finger-nail, I catch myself wondering again whetheryou’ll thank me for washing your dishes.I realize that this would defeat the pointof my gesture, that this has destroyedall good thoughts I’ve had about saying
+“I’m sorry.” This, this is the reason whyI am always apologizing: because I nevermean it, because there is always, in [someattic]attic, a thought roaming that says, insists:
+“I’ve done nothing wrong, and I deserveall I can take, and more than that.“
+