Consideration

National Poetry Month Day 11

In the clutter of my Mama’s house,
I tinker with podcast
equipment for a workshop.
After testing every piece, she announces that dinner is ready.
and before I make my plate,
I see a pile of dishes in the sink.
Stained with guck and grime from the weekend’s fun,
I start washing them—
even though she tells me not to.

As if, that was going to stop me.
As if, she thought I wasn’t going to lighten her load,
As if, I was gonna just add one more dish to the pile.

Mothers,
the first superhumans we meet
I don’t get how she babysits, meal preps, works out, and still goes to work.
I’d probably forget things as she adds more,
So no, I will not be obedient and
Yes, I will do the dishes,

It’s the least I can do.