Note from the poet

In Washing Up, I use the everyday act of washing dishes as a metaphor for the often unseen emotional labour carried by women, particularly those who are older and have spent years caring for others. The careful cleaning of the cups reflects a quiet, patient effort to restore order, while the surrounding silence suggests the loneliness and invisibility that can accompany this work. The image of the scum leaving a mark “like a tree’s growth ring” hints at the accumulation of years, responsibilities, and experiences. In the final lines, the steam blurring the woman’s reflection suggests how a lifetime of nurturing and service can sometimes obscure a sense of self, leaving her identity partially hidden behind the routines of daily life.