I’m Washing the Dishes at My Kitchen Sink

after my friend has left my place
and my hands are shaking. Making me drop the pots
and pans. They bang in the sink
and the clink is broken.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and I’m thinking about how this time is different
because my friend said this time she tried.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and all I want is for something to be clean.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and even the water that streams from the faucet
feels dirty, cleanliness is
unattainable––leaving me
hopeless. The feeling splashes over me
and consumes my soul
that I’m not convinced is real.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and her words are ringing like the broken clink:
I tried to kill myself last week.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and I’m meditating on my friend telling me
not to look so sad for her. She told me––only me
because she wanted stability.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and I’m thinking of all the tears I couldn’t shed
in front of her, for her––sadness contained
like the basin of a sink
drain stopped
and filling the empty space between.

I’m washing the dishes at my kitchen sink
and I throw the wine glass to the tiles beneath
and it breaks with a more melodic clink
and I finally let my body break
on the tile floor shaking
and sobbing surrounded by
broken glass, so fragile
and still jagged

Jean Gaffney is an undergraduate at Albion College, studying Literature and Environmental Policy. When they're not studying, they like to pet pugs, drink coffee, and read.