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Day 19: Imagine yourself performing any household task/chore, then write a poem using what you’ve imagined as an extended metaphor for writing: an Ars Poetica.


This sighing task at the sink's edge is not so
unlike the revising of a great project, editing
it's a slow, scrubbing battle and
a climb up Mount Dish, after a feast
of celebration, of the ecstasy of finishing work,
the finishing of long days.

What once filled you with warmth and savory good
and slid past your tongue sweet and smooth
now is crusted, cracked, soured, gone cold
stomach turning and making the waters
go from clear to bilge as you work, disgusted
hands wrinkling up and resenting each course

The joy is over now, the resting is over now.
Now it is time to scour
in just tolerable hot water with soup until you
have cleared away the mess to make
way for the next feast, the next finishing
now it's time to scrub 'til something shines.









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