Poem: The Stove is Elsewhere
A personal favorite of mine, a treatise on why it’s not a good idea to cook and write simultaneously.
The Stove is Elsewhere
Well, to begin with, you can’t mix these times,
Wondering what that was all about
I’ve put on the coffeepot before and stepped away
Amazing physics in a pot run dry and glowing
But there’s soup on now and soup’s forgiving
Knowing what I’m doing with soup
Metaphoric spices, onion tears, tomato paste like blood,
Forgiving enough to let my mind run elsewhere
This poem is included in
THE SMELL OF TWEED
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