Thursday, October 24, 2013

This Time (Poem 205)

Well, open the damn 
windows then, and to hell 
with the bill. Freezing cold 
anyways, and the fire's not going 
to make any difference. 
And while we're at it, let's run 
the hot water for an hour or two, 
and turn on all the lights! 
But don't come crying to me 
if we get kicked outta here. 
Hey, isn't that the oven timer?

When she opened the oven door, 
it sighed a gush of air 
thick with the golden scent 
of baked pears and browning 
shortbread crust. For a moment, 
she was fifteen and laughing with 
a group of leggy, suntanned friends 
as they left the cool river of the drugstore 
and were stunned to a stand-still by a wall 
of Abilene heat. This time, she remembered 
to turn off the oven light.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six