LVII

The cup of coffee, the coffeepot,
the steam that soothes my skeleton,
the obedient pan, the blackened
amulet, the mustard, the icebox,

the broken sink, the jaunty
tureen, the finicky airs of the flirtatious
iridescent vase, the parapet
of vanilla, saffron and spring.

Place of integrities: my free will...
Oh happy kitchen: when I die
and my time —without time— vibrates and grows,

in faithful purring may all that is mine and is clear
return to your wild mat
and may your steam —without end— dispel it.