Friday, September 25, 2009
In this best room, only a kitchen,
touch cloth--in towels--touch
metal stove, wood cupboards.
Look down the breadboard: scars
time never needs to overcome.
The easy refrigerator door closes like this:
"Forgive." Inside, a light goes to sleep
comfortably, friend of lettuce, admired
by the eggs; and the meditative motor
suggests winter, then pauses all night.
Room that gives life, alone with independent
spices content just to be in their jars:
while we live may your way be ours.
May we never forget your order, the various
world brought by recipes to anyone's taste--
The work of many made into one home.
Posted over on Kansas Literature