At the Stainless Table I Work on Peeling a Case of Potatoes  

The potato peeler
has a clean
violent intent
Each metallic shink is a
but clean
and allowed
And the world
is on the other side
of a door
that is also
where fog appears
like a breath
on cold glass
like a memory
And as the breath
and fog occur
so does the memory
warm me
when a blossom emerges
at the center of my spine
and is felt by
and feels
my heartbeat
A memory of a girl I miss
Even at my wedding
I missed her
And it’s not
what you’re thinking
I have missed her
the way she wanted
A suicide wants anything
from the ones it leaves
obsessed with timing
She said in her note
it’s hard work
coming to terms
with things
Then a line or two from
What a Little Moonlight Can Do
She loved Billie Holliday
The song
is mine now
in the same way
she is mine
Just out of reach
A low south sun
through parted blinds
is ribbons
on my right shoulder
is strips that
combine and disappear
when I let the light
through the door
In the stainless
steel pot
the water
begins to boil
I peel faster
I won’t open the door
again until after dark

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About Me

A poet-chef living in Denver, Co. I use the orange Aquafresh toothpaste, off brand mouthwash, and those little floss picks.

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