In an ideal world

the washing machine 
is a portal to clean linen
dishes lean back like sun 
loungers by the sink
potato peel curls 
through your fingers
mine scroll ingredients 

a buzz the ground shakes we turn round 
the washing machine opens its mouth emits 
a golden light we jump back you drop the peeler 
a familiar voice ‘come on you two’ 
you step forward 
I fret

face illuminated reach for 
my hand I worry about burning 
dinner or the potatoes going yellow you look at
me in that way you do I let go grab your hand
we crawl towards the voice towards 
who knows 

Nora lives by the sea and writes poems. She is an immigrant poet who moved to the UK from Budapest in 2006. Nora’s most recent poetry can be found in Dust Magazine, Harana Poetry, and Perhappened. In her day job, Nora works in communications for an international development consultancy.