Issue Four

Summer 2012



I tried keeping it under a tight lid.
It steamed and simmered, boiled and bubbled, hot.
What else was I to do? Well, what I did
was—nothing.           But at least this did not
blow up the house, although it scorched the pot
which, ugly and unusable, I've hid
in the remotest cupboard, way in back.
You wouldn’t want to see a pot burned black.

But now I’ve met, well, let’s just say, someone
who makes me feel I want to boil a bit,
and taken out the pot and polished it
like new, although I have not yet begun
to heat things. This time, once the stove is lit,
I'll stir occasionally, until done.


James B Nicola



poppy closeup