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
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