digital art: ralph murre
WOMAN AT THE BRINK
by Karla Huston
She stands at the sink; water foams
and steams as she pushes everything
under the way her mother taught her:
glasses and silver first, then plates
washed and set to drain, pots and pans
last, yellow grease popping
what is left of soap as it bubbles
across her knuckles. She imagines
the window that isn’t in front of her,
the scent of clover filling her nose,
the dove perched on the fence,
bobbing, then, poised to fly—
unaware of the hawk
on
the rooftop next door.
~
first published in Poet Lore
