Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Kettle

The iron kettle is bigger than me.
It boils water and sings, shakes, lives, does not get hurt.
It can burn my skin.
I look at it from every angle,
Open it,
Touch the bottom of it,
The inside of it.
I knock on it,
Fill it with sounds.
It has a strong simplicity.
It is clear, brilliant and deep.
It will survive me and my daughter and my daughter's daughter and her dog.
It will contain more water than our bodies put together.
I, am opaque, vulnerable, full, changing, soft, breakable, unopened.
I want to be the kettle,
See my skin turn into an iron armor,
My inside boiling,
Steam suddenly and loudly coming out of my teethless and gaping mouth
Before someone empties me and fills me again,
Leaving me warm and shaken.
And there.

[Show French Version]

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