Friday, June 6, 2014

Slow Dark Currant

Slow Dark Currant
Weather stormy or 
whether just making jam, 
that taste on your tongue 
when the toaster sends its slams.

Waking up in the middle of the kitchen 
unable to move all but your vision. 
Feet are visible, toes immobile. 
A spark shooe's away the light.

Never thought it'd be so obscure, 
that spoon of dangerous summer confiture. 
Now you can see beyond your knees and feet,

a flame erupt and the rubber slippers crackle, pop and wheeze

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