Gloved Love

You guys never laughed at me for spoiling you rotten in glee With spilt milk over nothing as if I created exquisite novel cuisine Of course your applause was quite muted because of the padding Maybe you secretly chuckled when I debated in adamant earnest Whether one glove fits all gourmets when brave experiments failed And which mitt belonged to what hand and if I was wrong to decide Never got out when my kitchen looked like a belligerent reminder Of insane propositions to marry hunger with delicate opulence When more shells crisped up the omelette than shrapnel in Flanders And bloody meat hid inside beef scorched from heated exchange While recipes for disaster disguised as some deep fried Trojan horse Butchered taste buds scorned with pleasure lost in hell’s paradise More than once you whispered ‘do not put your head in the oven’ Switched of the gas as if by itself and encouraged me to keep trying When the lights went out you told me a story of blueberry muffins Presented to Odysseus emerging from an underworld of despair Caressed me into holding pots pans scourers and bedlam together Even under looming death from friendly fire and collateral damage Now that I live to tell the tale of surrender you carry an olive branch More holes than fabric punctured into a fading emblem of design I rest you in peace on a tree in the garden where you dance in the wind With old tea mugs and measuring cups full of promise and compassion 10th May 2020