Feckless

I forgot to buy the laundry detergent,

again. I would need to take the container

and swirl it with water, capturing the last of the sticky substance dripping

from its sides, hoping

the mix poured into the cap and then into the machine

would be enough to wash out the dirt.

*

But how can one rid oneself of so much dirt with diluted

hope? Perhaps one must be deluded

to take an empty bottle filled with nothing more

than an half effort, a watered down, feckless version

of that which it wishes it was and expect to clean away

the filth that some feckless, diluted self created?

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