I am a dirty bowl
coated in dried pasta sauce
untouched vegetables rotting on my face
I smell

Entering the house, the odor and spectacle should drive you back

But
I am heavy ceramic
Unable to move
Unable to care

I need someone to wash me
touch me with warm, soapy hands
scrub me inside
and out

Clean away the depression and put me back on the shelf
waiting
for a new love

Hi all. This is my first year posting.
Thank you so much for your feedback on the egg poem. I was thrilled to read all the comments. I don't write a whole lot of poetry, but this project inspired me to gather some courage to just get out there and work.
I know Ariel and Polly from our time in Winnipeg journalism. I now live in Toronto and work in marketing - usually the opposite of poetry.
- Joanna