As she stoops to wash her dishes
in the still water, the widow tries to picture
her husband, an arranged marriage to a man
she never really knew, a man of few words
with whom she used to share the daily chores.
She feels an odd new twinge in her lower back,
curses growing old, swirls her mop through the water,
wincing, then wrings it out.  She has large knuckles
and strong, veined forearms, twists the mop head
as easily as she can snap a chicken’s neck.
Watching a family of swans swim by in single file,
she empties her bidet, rinses it, takes up bidet,
mop, and dishes, turns from the shore,
and begins the long, slow walk home alone.

* * * * *

Today’s word is


Use it in a piece of writing and then post and link to me, or simply leave it in the comments below. I would love to read what you wrote.

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