Those Hands That do Dishes

[cidermaid]

HI Billy,  this one had a simple charm that then took my thoughts on a slightly odd path.   The last line I found myself thinking of overworked pastry as an image and had a whole story going about the life person behind the hands.  This was the thing with this poem...I want more.  It feels a bit empty and that I am missing out on a great story that has not been told.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo. In limbo sounds a bit lacking and at odds with the life of a saucepan...more like in seasons of soapy water.
of soapy water and drying rack.  Should that read racks.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.  These last three lines tell a story but they feel a bit flat and dull.   Perhaps this was the image you wanted - to connect to a tedious and dull existence, but without a connect to a character I could not find.much sparkle in these lines.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white.    I actually think you could just make this stanza you opening poem and see where it takes you.  (The three week line made me think of the life of a bug...so detested and easily squished....and the decayed makes me think of a terminal illness, trotting from the inside out....and then the last line has me on the pastry thing!   The thing is this is a interesting opener that gets the imagination going.

Alternatively it has been a long day and it is nearly time for me to turn into a pumpkin so disregard most of what I have just said
AJ