Ode to our Stove

old wood-stove 19th century

[Another poem from the Domestic Odes suite…]

Ode to our Stove

black squat stomach
of our kitchen,
you eat up wood
like nobody’s business

yet your warmth
is unmetallic, arising
from eucalypts sagging
under the chainsaw drone
of cicadas
in a noonday sun,
or food slowly
simmering itself
into saucy succulence

your fire water
radiates our rooms’ veins
in fourfold alchemy
of air, fire, water,
earth-sprung wood
driving the warm body
of our house
as it sails drunkenly
through wintry space

outwardly unmoved,
your fiery guts
rage quietly
like a compost heap
or a small blue planet
seen from space


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on August 26, 2014.

One Response to “Ode to our Stove”

  1. i love it…and relate to all…with the exception of the eucalypts…we ain’t got that in kentucky…and the eucalyptus in florida is considered an out of control exotic invasive…hmmmmm…ruminate on that metaphorically… (:

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