I know you of course –

your familiar swamp of grease

and indignity,

knives and spoons scattered

like mutilated limbs

across a battlefield

of gravy-streaked plates

and wounded china.

After the civilities

of supper, I’ve heard the Huns

of cutlery (who hasn’t?) unleashing

their true selves –

jostle,

        raid, ravish,

slump.

And I recognise you,

just another kitchen sink

dreaming

of foam and equanimity.

Another lifetime and we’ll get there, I promise –

creamy

lavender-scented

         pH-balanced.