Zen and the Art of
Washing Up

I've been left half empty
as usual, a scum of oily water
and gritty bits of eggshell sunk

to my bottom. I wish
I could be rinsed out
put to dry on the draining board

They are always in a rush
like children playing at house
doing nothing properly.

My bright yellow
turned dingy
from too many coffee cups.

The Fairy Liquid smiles benignly.
Fellow conspirators
in an empty kitchen

She is full now
but soon will be empty.
She doesn't realise.

Thinks she's here for ever.
As the level of thick green
liquid drops down

her insides
she will learn
we are all disposable.

I have a crack
in my rim.
A small piece of me

down the plughole

Caroline Davies

If you have any comments on this poem, Caroline Davies would be pleased to hear from you.