It was as clear as a chamoised windex bottle
that something had to change
as deferral of detergent on dirtied dishes
had become a point of bane.

As yarn is spun, thoughts revolved
I knew action did indeed loom
alas the pong of polluted plates
had begun to fill the room.

Putting plates in perspective
it was a minute domestic rift
in comparison to poverty and politics
a stomach rumble to a seismic shift.

But I did not batter out the batches
or weather the tea cups in my storm.
Instead I waited and tallied the days
of this overdue dishwashing forlorn.

Until one evening I arrived home
from a day of my technological toil
to find the pile had indeed dispersed
and had been relieved of their sordid soil.