Dishes Clean

You’ll claim you fixed it neat – sure
as ships in off-shore breeze sail
sweet you will profess to be the man
who solved that grand impasse

Leastways you’ll say you did although
there’s even doubt it was your hand –
it’s more a case of ignorance at ease
than any truly cogent plan

And yet you did the deed; evidence
appeals as swishing sounds arouse
replete within a dumb machine
that formerly was staunchly mute

Though you can never say you knew
what caused it so its righting came
in sequenced acts applied from a
brochure which Bosch prescribed

You must confess that their advice
had made no sense in any way but
lose – but then it ran and washed
and gurgled as it always used to do

And there it stands – dishes clean
and sanity returned by a machine
whose whims exceed a dolorous
dish maid's eccentricities
© 2 February 2011, I. D. Carswell