Wise Cook

I watched her from my window when fire delays to light she pours in it water with rage then flogs the fire-stones and all is smoke and wetness then she starts all over again Each time she is annoyed throws abuses at the foolish fire at the day’s end hunger creeps in her family curse biting hunger as neighbors eat their fill in joy By evening the wise cook goes out asking for charity and left-overs which she eats alone in hiding as offspring, husband maid starve One night she dreamed a dream Fire stood up and advised her; “You call yourself wise cook, no! You are a foolish servant-cook Why can’t you use wood I love?”