Hand-Washing Ritual

let the water’s currency
pass from palm to palm

scooped up or cupped
from an open tap

its anonymity going public
as a cloak of foam

hands twist and shimmy
dancing fast and close

till they’re indistinguishable
and all hands are right

the skin sheds its oils its soil
its toil-colored self

once again to whisper away
the kiss of living

risky as it is
with unseen tasks

***

Thanks to the anonymous graffiti artist whose rendering of the word TASKS in giant letters on a passing train gave me the closing word.