Heated Housewife

I put the ice cubes in the glasses

And the salt in the salt shakers

I cracked open the window 

But it barely budged 

Drawn tight no one allowed in

I took the turkey out of the oven 

Placed rosemary on top

 

It’s so hot in here 

I chill the white 

Put out the red

 

I’m sweating 

Fork to the left 

Knife on the right 

Or is it the other way around 

What’s the temperature set at 

Napkins are linen 

Fine China all set 

Clipping the roses for my vase

Perspiration on my lips 

Salty 

The ice is melting 

No one is coming 

The smoke alarm has beeped 

For minutes now 

Maybe hours 

I drowned it out with tunes 

And Hums 

Songs of my past

I flail the tea towel 

So unladylike 

Still shouting at me 

To do better 

My god, it is so hot in here 

I can’t see through the sweat 

The window won’t open 

My god, it is so hot right now

 

Wrapping the tea towel 

Around my swollen hand 

Smash 

Through the window 

Stepping on broken glass

 

Ouch 

The air blows in crisp 

Fast 

Smoke runs through the jagged frame 

Had to leave me

No goodbyes 

Water in my vase

 

Shiver 

Fork on the right 

Knife on the left 

No that can’t be right

White sweating 

Red corked 

No ones coming

 

My god, it is too cold in here

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

A series of connected thought/events, a series of seconds and a series of emotions. Life is a serial, endlessly repeating, endlessly killing itself by drowning in minutia, second, by thought, by event, by rote.

Have no idea what you meant to say in your fine poem, but something like the words above are what I heard.

Thanks for sharing.

[The Things She Noted]

Love it, thank you so much for your thoughts :)