He is wet sleeves.

He is water
swimming across surfaces
and streaming to the floor.

He is bubble-streaked hair.

He is the minute polishing
of each glass.
He is the enthusiastic whisking
that fails to remove
any roux from the whisk.
He is the slapdash rinsing
of dinner plates.

He is
the very clean
bits of onion
that collect
in the plug-hole.

Above all,
he is in bed, and asleep,
before anyone notices
the unwashed pot on the stove.

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