Kitchen
Kitchen
Let’s be insecure in a kitchen somewhere
washing our dishes the oldskool way
Like, I’d be with the red checkered towelette
slowly, slowly drying inside your favourite mug
and you’d be asking:
“But can you see yourself married
to me…?”
Let’s be insecure in the kitchen out there
cutting vegetables slowly for emu stew
Like, I’d be with the Heinkel knife blade
slicing slowly the tomato as you watch
and you’d be saying:
“But what about this London Muse
fuckin’ guy…?”
Let’s be insecure in the kitchen in PEI
making tea with organic leaves after nine
Like, the sun would be set, tea seeped
and we’d hunker down on sofa
and you’d be insisting:
“But what if I love you more
than you love me…?!”
I can dry tears
like I can slice eyes
I can obsess wild
like I can leave behind.
Trick is to see how I divvy up the dessert
And how I always push my pudding to you
when you’re done yours first.
Sylvie Hill, August 31, 2014