IN THE KITCHEN
A jug of water
has its own lustrous turmoil
The ironing board thanks god
for its two good strong legs and sturdy back
The new fridge hums like a maniac
with helpfulness
I am trying to love the world
back to normal
The chair recites its stand-alone prayer
again and again
The table leaves no stone unturned
The clock votes for the separate burial of hearts
I am trying to love the world
and all its 8,000 identifiable languages
With the forgetfulness of a potter
I’m trying to get the seas back on the maps
where they belong
secured to their rivers
The kettle alone knows the good he does,
Here in the kitchen, loving the world,
Steadfastly loving
See how easy it is, he whistles
