Difficult to Live Without a Kitchen

A light glow from the desk,
the presence of my husband,
facing an illuminated screen--

Seated at the white,ceramic-tiled
breakfast nook, my girls and I
vie for his attention.
There is a lit candle nestled into the
corner, alongside the wine rack,
and it too sends forth
its own small orb of motion--
the scent of sandalwood, inviting
but restrained from overpowering.

Overhead, a fan wields its
soft current of air upon us,
lightly taps the wooden chimes
holding their station in front
of the Frida Kahlo,
on its way down.

And above my husband's body hangs
that image of exhausted migrant
workers, huddled and seeking refuge
from the day's non-existence
in each other.

Asian patterned wall meets Mexican--
dark trim leading the way toward
Native, hugging to it, the symbolic
mosaic tile we've had for nineteen years--
bought on our honeymoon,
shaped and painted to represent the
two-fluted wedding vase.

We are each of us
sucking on freshly cut pineapple,
while our bare legs call to the
coolness we know exists in the
layer beneath us--

instead, tonight, we choose the unity of

this kitchen's luminescing.  

Comments 1 comment

akirchner profile image

akirchner 6 years ago from Central Oregon

Lovely poem - thanks for sharing with us!

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