The dishwasher appears in good spirits,
humming through its To Detergent list, passive-

aggressively grinding its teeth down. & you can’t help
but notice the rain collapsing

the showy costume of snow. Stalled blank cells,
caught between left & right margins. Setting up

an easel. Tethered to fact but teetering.
I’ve already let the day down

in surprising ways. Made a rocket into a box.
The sky was elected mayor

of overcast & my vote didn’t count.
From the next room, overhearing

my life. Filtering it through a dynamic kidney duo.
What quaint retribution can I mutter? Tweezing the unwanted hairs

makes no difference to the portrait
from a distance. On the chin

of the kitchen counter, a common clementine,
coat removed. A one-piece offering so plump

it might just turn things around.
You can smell the holy ghost in there

filling it up, a body orange-juiced with joy.