Potmaster 600, you have left
oatmeal dried on the cusp of my bowl
again, and I am shifting my weight
at the kitchen sink, picking at it with my
thumbnail, getting dishpan hands.
The silverware are soaking in a cup
of soapy water after another
wasted round in the dishwasher.
There are only twelve hours left until
the delivery truck arrives to take you
out of these cabinets, out of our house,
out of our town, to where they take
twenty-two year old appliances, and soon,
I will be rid of you, loading every dish
without pre-rinse, into a stainless-steel
mid-range tall tub high-efficiency
silverware jets included dishwasher,
one that doesn’t need to be called Potmaster—
it is and will be the master of the pots.