she
opened the oven and scraped
her hands against the wall of
heat, sparks and smoke
curling between her fingers
and now this clawmark
where metal tried to kiss
skin screams at warmth,
winces under cold water,
hides in the curl of a fist.
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The non-poetic version: I left expensive organic pizza in the oven too long and burned my thumb trying to rescue it. Continuing in the theme of poems that go "ow." ;)
ReplyDeleteI swear it didn't sound so emo when I first wrote it...
ReplyDeleteIt kind of sounds like a Distillers song... hahahaha!
ReplyDeleteExcellent. I shall use it to woo Ms. Brodie Dahl. That and my womanly wiles. Bwaha! ;)
ReplyDelete