Alkali

The machine gave up during the night.

I found the gray water on the floor,

a cold lake that smelled like wet lint.

I'm down on my knees with the bucket.

The white crystals are heavy.

They don't want to dissolve in the heat,

just sit at the bottom of the green plastic,

gritty and sharp against my skin.

My knuckles are starting to crack.

The powder eats the oil out of my hands

until the bone feels almost close.

It takes a lot of work to be clean.