in the kitchen

he's eighteen,
born four days after me.
and he likes to draw faces
gonna get himself
an art degree.
but for now,
it's the kitchen
and a girl he likes to see.
he used to be a brother
but now we're smiling
over coffee and tea.

he probably won't understand
i used to be a w***e.
and i hate the ignorance
that leads me to his door.
it's
an
idea
i find hard to ignore.
i came home one night,
and slipped my dress from my shoulders
and shivered
from the november wind.
and the feel of your arms.
your skin.

in the kitchen,
i am the apprentice.

Reviews

[LJW]

The rhyming here is awesome. The message, unmistakable. The ending two lines, brilliant.

[W.k.kortas]

I love this piece, and I'm at a loss to say why--the rhyme is subtle but unmistakable, and perhaps it's because it is so true-to-life without being hard-edged and gritty. Still, I'm at a loss to put my finger on one thing or concept to explain why I'm drawn to this, so perhaps it has to be chalked up to its intangibles.