Shadi Eskandani

at dawn
(how we endure)

cold laminate coarse
feet shift weight
minutes after fajr she
scrubs dishes stares
at shadows outside the kitchen window.
her ancient hips hug the sink
hold the hush of history
before ibrahim’s word before yazatas
and aatash   before exile
separation   silence
the surrender of water.
rinsing one dish after another
metronomic this moment
not a tragic story
no revelation
only the movement of filth
against chipped edges of a glass.