Sonnet to the Dishwasher

Form: Constellation Sonnet

A new recipe that steeps the remains
Delicate morsels left from days before
Sweet and sour sauce curling round in red stains
A cloudy liquid swirls over once more
While gently warming the supper ingrains
Not exactly a power food for a kid’s brains
Nor a comforting soup we all adore
This compote of regurgitated mains
Without apple and custard’s sweet rapport
The hi-tech mash-up of dietary pains
It sits in the kitchen collecting grime
In fabrications of the middle class
But the food remains gather over time
It's a social climbing pain in the ass


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