the cleansing

I stand at the sink after work.
caked
in debris, dust, dirt.
I take a bar of soap
and turn the spigot on.
I scrub
and push the bar into
my palms, my nails
and knuckles.
I let it soak into the cracks
of my hands as I rub
them together
lacing fingers into fingers.
the water is warm as
I bend to the cleansing
of what the day brought.
I could stand here all
day, all night and scrub
if it could change everything,
make this world
between work
right again, clean and new.