What problem lies ahead, what foulness, what stink
From this traitorous sink
In silence and obstinance, it waits with a stare
Black-clogged with soap, toothpaste and hair
The complaints came a-callin’. The solution you see
Requires but determination to the nth degree
With parts dismantled, all open to eyes
Its secrets revealed, no great surprise
I cough, cringe and gag–how this job I despise!
My son’s sink–less vengeful, I again realize
I clear reeking gunk the color of night ink
Thanks, dear Daughter, and your Traitorous Sink.