Dirty sink strainer, you shoot straight through my heart.

Why do you sit?

Why do you sit and mock me?

 

When I leave you are clean, upon my return you are wretched and dirty.

Tangled loops of spaghetti gently embracing chunks of old salsa and chips.

A scraped dish gets put in the washer,

An emptied cup goes there too.

Why oh why does your existence get ignored?

Do their eyes not see, do their noses not smell?

 

In the early days you were clean, for I cleaned you.

I had time.

You were like shiny and new with each coming sunrise.

Oh the beautiful patterns that would reflect off your brilliant surface when the sun shone through the morning window!

 

The sun rose and set, and did so many more times.

One set of cutlery turned to two.

Still you were mostly clean.

I missed the brilliant reflections but evidently not enough.

Shiny you may have not been but you were always free of old pepperoni and bits of onion.

We were still pals life had just changed.

 

Two sets of cutlery turned to three, three sets to four.

My eyes could barely open, the brilliant reflection was gone for good and yet I did not miss it.

You spent years languishing in the embrace of bits of ground beef and curdled milk,

I like to think you enjoyed the companionship.

Separated as we were you always had company in a few stray pieces of macaroni.

I was tired, and you were filthy and yet your beauty shone through.

 

But how I love your filth.

Your half chewed blueberry and bits of lettuce give warmth.

From your filth my heart overfloweth.

Dirty old sink strainer please don’t ever change.