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.
Blogspot
- Art vs. Life
To read more by Jenn, visit her blog.