The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Michael Davis

WHEN I’M HOT

I am love
and I am hell.

Stay away from the blue flame.
Don’t reach for the overhanging
pot-handle. Beware
the sizzling bacon grease
that will snap into your eye
and leave you
crying on the counter.
Get off the counter!
Get in your seat!

But where else will you heat
your polenta, water,
chicken stock? Where will your puddings
thicken, your perch
poach, peas simmer?
Under the simple gaze of the renegade sun?

You can’t escape me. I’ll be the first
thing that comes to mind
as the family car slides
into the drive of the beach house.
Did we leave the gas on?

My belly is full of your bellyful
of cookies. But keep your head out
and see to it that the pilot’s lit
or it’s curtains, whether you expect
them or not. And don’t just sit there--
stick that bone out for the witch
so she’ll think you’re not yet fat enough
for the oven and slide in another tray
of snickerdoodles instead of you.

If they burn around the edges,
remember it’s a dog eat biscuit,
boy eat bunny, family sit down
to a bowl of soup and loaf of bread world.

Sssssssss. When I’m hot, I’m on.
Don’t you forget it.


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