Hung gallows-high shiny corpses in a row
skillet, pan and spoon swing low
no chariot in fan-blown room of dramas.
Flowered hands knead and push, pulling
stringy dough against its will to line
and cosset flan dish wavy' borders.
Kettle sings a sour song to bubbling water
as orange tips scatter from broken bag
twingeing cup with darkened grades.
Swirling whirlpool of sink's spent forces
vanish ghostlike down plastic pipe.
Fresh Everest-mound of china rises
to hint at red dish-pan hands again.
This joyless room, the "shed" of womankind,
"Keep out" irrationally leads the male
into purdah while dinner roasts
and curses rise to match the failure of the meal.
All quiet now in room of burnt endeavour.
Dishwasher hums its secret melody
of swish and drip, turns dull dishes into sparkle
like the ads, not quite; egg-yellow sticky
burnt edges grin at scotched pressure-cook,
as empty turns to fill again the fruitless pots.
Squirming limpet-custard held fast round crystal bowl
from Aunty Maud, as filter clogs - to halt
in mid-wash - the fulminating machine.
Mrs Beeton ill-used again for door-stop
| this was an extremely amusing piece....it did have a couple of confusing points where you nearly lost me, but overall it was a well done breathe of fresh air....|
i dont think that i have read anything quite like this recently, possibly ever but my memory is lacking a year or two.....
|| Posted on 2007-03-21 00:00:00 | by blu_kittin | [ Reply to This ] |