NaPoWriMo 2024 – Day 6 – an empty sink

an empty sink

it was the unspoken rule
a sure antidote for the insanity
that seeped through the walls
and haunted the dark rooms
of my childhood home
everything in its place and
most of all, no dishes in the sink
it was nightly chore my sister and I hated
but one we knew, if not completed
each night to our father’s satisfaction
when he returned from his nightly binges
we could expect to be roused from sleep
by the sound of the cabinets being emptied
of dishes and silverware hitting the floor
ordered to clean the mess “we caused”
all because there was a fork left in the sink
or a tea cup, it didn’t matter,
I remember hiding in the clothes closet
to avoid his manic outbursts of rage
I learned to be perfect on the outside

eventually I realized that a spotless sink somehow provided my troubled father
with the appearance of order
a way to hide the disfunction
that hounded him and terrorized
our seemingly happy, little family
we looked good in Polaroid snapshots
we almost looked normal…

it would be years before I was able
to let dishes air dry in the sink
my sister too suffered this peculiar trait
eventually we both realized that life
can be a bit messy, that unfolded laundry
on a chair or dishes in the sink are not
grave sins, but simply signs of normal life
and messy normal is okay
but it’s a character flaw I contend with
because perfect is an illusion
so please don’t judge me
by my spotless sink…I’m not trying to hide
some horrible secret or assuage my angst
sometimes I just can’t help myself
but sometimes, I’ll leave a spoon
in the sink overnight on purpose
because I need to remember
though I am my fathers’s daughter
I am not crazy…
at least that’s what my therapist tells me

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2024 – Day 6 Challenge – And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s we’d like to challenge you to write a poem rooted in “weird wisdom,” by which we mean something objectively odd that someone told you once, and that has stuck with you ever since. Need an example? Check out Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem “Making a Fist.”


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