The washing machine

Judders sideways much as a giant crab

might submerge itself in a salty pool

elbowed in by Robin Hood’s Bay rocks washed

by North Sea storms.

Its own storms show a rotting rubber rim,

and a rust Rorschach fronting like an iron lichen.

The washing machine doctor cured it of 

...

My NaPoWriMo effort for today, inspired by a prompt from Paper Swans Press on FB: Write a poem about a kitchen appliance. This, again, is just the first half.