suppose.

Suppose the dishes in the sink were never washed,
and they just kept mountaining to overwhelming heights
until they broke through the ceiling
and the plaster coated our heads like dandruff.
Would you climb it with me?

Suppose we scaled that summit of silverware and glass
with just our hands, convictions and wills,
do you think we'd make it to the top
or would we have to lighten our load?

Suppose we rested along the way,
and you were starving to death—
if I slipped my hand in one of the ceramic crevices,
would I find that cake I baked for you, so many months ago, untouched?
This time, would you eat it?

Suppose I didn't know my way around the kitchen,
would you still love me regardless?

Suppose I pushed you off the side,
would you, like a dish, shard into a million porcelain pieces,
or would you survive the fall unscathed?

Suppose I just did the dishes,
would you then stay home for dinner
or would you still go out to eat instead?