Those Hands That do Dishes

[ellajam]

Thanks, Stanley, that really helped me read the poem in a different light, I couldn't quite put it together.

Welcome, glad to have you here.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

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 think I sense a conflict here, but not that of washing and repeating.
The pot and pans are a universal metaphor for those thing in life
We can't ignore. They are ever repeating, like those bad ole copper coins,
I thought that was a nice touch by the way, but those  pesky dishes
Have a weakness, in the form of the gloves. Now there is a metaphorical
Cure to fight the metaphorical disease o.o the power this piece  suggests
Is that the problem out lives the solution. The dishes come back, but the gloves
Don't. Life and death become central to this piece, and in the midst of this
Battle of good and evil, there is a person who makes it all happen by wearing
The gloves, but again the gloves don't fix everything. They only prolong
The inevitable return of the dishes, and then they are gone to the vicious cycle.
Kind of like one step forward two steps back. But hey that is life, I should know...
I wash dishes for a living! really great writing.