Bring it on
by Nonnie Augustine
Whistle for me Kettle,
sing your high-pitched
one note tune.
Bring sound
to this quiet house.
Ding a wave to me, Micro.
What cooks behind your door?
No matter. The ding’s the thing.
Pop with gusto, Toast.
Knife, scrape when you spread the bread.
Converse with me, Ice-box.
Buzz me your frozen secrets.
Clatter and crash copper pots.
I relish a racket.
Whiz with impunity
Mixer. Inspire me
with your diligence.
Ice cubes, when you drop,
tumble with raucous abandon.
Animate kitchen. Yes.
Simulate life.
January 24th, 2006 at 2:49 am
Nonnie:
I like this one. A lot. I like where it takes me, how it makes me feel…and of course, I was laughing when I saw what you were doing–discussing with all the kitchen gadgets–I love the pop and crack of the ice–it made me think of those old tin ice trays with a lever on top to break the ice. So as I said, I was laughing until the end, and then the loneliness of the whole situation was overwhelming. Very good, even more than usual.
–michelle b.
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