epicuriosity forensics literature sociology thanatology

my oven has died

my oven has died

as my buoyant soul has no need for it


pulled to the middle of the kitchen floor

an asphyxia case in need of cpr


of a burned out ignitor


mr. repairman

is an hourn’half delinquent

of his 9 to noon service window


he made me miss my lunch date


i stand hand on hip

in a dress

from a November 1954 edition

of vogue magazine

my whimsy contained

by a tea length line of buttons


a cat on a hot tin roof southern slip

because i hold a firm belief

the maytag man should be met

with a combination of elizabeth taylor

and donna reed


sylvias’s ghost stands behind me

eyebrow raised commenting

“good thing you had no plans to make one of my dishes tonight”

i call her a tramp

we laugh like conspiring sisters



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