the silent street woke me
falling snow filling the space between
streetlamps and tree branches

I stared through the window
from the pillow unable to find sleep
standing on the tile at 3 am
doing dishes
seemed the best option

life weighs more in deep night
pushing down on the edges of who I am
water fills the sink
words tipping if spoken louder than whispers
delicate, imperfect balance

submerged, porcelain and stainless steel become clean
drying rack filled piece by piece
while water cools
one pan left to soak a little longer
I consider coffee at 3:15

snow contiues to fall
nothingness was what woke me
the void, the endless empty nothing
the last piece in darkness
ending. the dishes are clean

~