Best Before

From my new collection of Poetry, Zeus and the Giant Iced Tea. (Available from aupress.ca)

For forty days and forty nights
that fridge rattled in the empty echoes
of the kitchen.
The dearth of food in its belly
biblical in proportions.
And on the forty-first day
a loud clang burst forth
through the abandoned house
gas hissed from its chilled creases
and the refrigerator set still.

Still.

Dreaming of the distant future
when its door would hang ajar
by one hinge
and vines would frolic
along the crevassed nuances
of its corrugated interior
when rain would fill her
like a bathtub
a swimming-pool-cum-breeding-ground
for mysterious insects
In retirement but still a thousand years shy
of shuffling off
this frigid coil.

Category:

Entertainment

Tags:

• poetry
• fridge
• jungle
• food
• wild

[wsmith49]

Thanks for shuffling off this frigid coil. Nothing much a bare bodkin could do here. And I think fridges dream only when alive. Dead and abandoned they are oneiric catalysts; but are free themselves of the curse. Good thing fridges don't have the suicide option open to them. We'd all be in a pickle. Good work. Don't keep it on ice!