When I wash my dishes
I wonder if it will crack
the extremities of hot water mixed with lead
steaming its skin
making it dry and wet at the same time

When I put my wet plate in the air
the water dripping from its surface
I wonder if it will become my heart
the red moon
that will drip with blood
staining the floor
consistent, but flexible

When I put my dishes away
I wonder if
the dishes dry due to their exhausted fear
from being touch
for indulgence
and thoes plates that crack
finally becomes tolerant...