Sink

Her hands pause

in the warm frothy water,

sponge limp, dish dirty.

Motes of wet food

float around the bowl.

It’s hard to reach into the sink

now the bulge is big,

pressing painfully onto

the handle of the cupboard.

A kick inside of protest.

Small hands grip her leg,

a whine climbs up

along with a pungent smell.

A clattering and bickering

stamps across the room.

She slaps the water hard

soaking her already wet

breasts and face.