top of page
  • Angela Micheli Otwell


I wash my hands because I touched the dog    before I tie back my hair. I wash my hands because I touched my hair    before I make the salad. Earlier, I washed my hair. Last week, I washed the dog. Later, I will wash the dishes. I am no priestess of domesticity with    burnt offering of cast iron drying on the stove,    germs sacrificed with drink offering of bleach,    dog, untouched, seeking crumbs at his mistress’ feet. Yet my hands bear the stigmata of the rituals of cleanliness,    which is nowhere near godliness,    as God required of me only one washing. But I could be Pilate’s great, great granddaughter,    intermittently aware of the futility    of trying to keep my own hands    clean. –Angela Micheli Otwell, 2006 (minor revisions 2020)

For access to more of my poetry, including previously unpublished content, please consider buying me a coffee over at Ko-fi. Click here for more information.

Recent Posts

See All

I'm still making changes to this website. I'm aware there are some problems with the new gallery page, but I have to move on to other projects right now. I'll try to get back to it soon. In other news

bottom of page