Farewell Poem for Kitchen

by Renwick Berchild

House empty, I’m in
the pilot light, an eye unblunk in the stove
that yawns, I remember,
the delicious and burnt feasts I cooked here
wearing only my drawers, small breasts
pulled down by gravity, water spurts that slashed
and sizzled nude skin, split carrots
that thundered in the quiet, in the dead of night
I’d cut chives, brew saffron,
steam would dry out my eyes I recall
those scents of mine, my favorite dishes,
treats of garlic, honey, al dente,
unleashed desires, I’d dream of a kitchen
big enough to sleep in, no Syrah
spilled down my front,
full arms of bayleaf, sills layered
in spearmint, this echo chamber squeaked clean
it’s over, my times making toothsome art
all alone in the late dark.

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