Lit eZine Vol 10 | p-4 | POETRY | Do You Still Call Here Home?

SHORT POEM

DO YOU STILL CALL HERE HOME?
Short Poem by Scott Frost

the kettle remembers first--
how his name used to rise with the steam,
 
soft as a warning you ignore
because it sounds like home.
 
your laughter sticks to the pot
i smell butter burning the evening
 
your husband closes doors
like he is fixing something
 
the oil rehearses its violence in the pan
spitting small fragments of anger 
 
against the tiled wall
candlelights burn like bonfire
 
in a hallway no one will photograph
on your cars, the noon sun glistens intently
 
green grasses in the garden look healthy
your neighbours watch with envy
 
i taste the heat at my window--
it carries your name without saying it
 
but i have stood too close to heat
not to recognize it--
 
the way it lingers in your curtain
threads itself into breath and gut
 
and becomes a second language 
your body speaks when touched