modern lady macbeth

we bathe in crispy-white bathrooms,
scrubbed-white bathtubs,
in order to feel clean.

we dine in pretty-white plates,
leaned against very-white tablecloths,
smoked plain-white cigarettes
between sparkly-white teeth.

waiters in washed-white aprons
clean our ashed-white ashtrays
so we can feel clean.

and we do (for a moment).
leaned against painted-white walls,
looking through paned-white windows
hoping for the rain
to wash our not-so-white sins.

but our pale-white hands,
stained with red blood…
they may rest all they want
in bleached-white pillows,
in white-dyed sheets…

those will never, ever
feel a white-cleansing,
water-washing of their sins.

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