This Zen Kitchen

The steam sings, in this Zen kitchen,
rising over evening potatoes,
in between the cooking and cleaning

today’s problems repeat in my head –
their theme stuck in a quandary,
cookhouse pandemonium reminds me, chicken is done,

ironing board, needle work
babies at my feet – where did they go?
Substantial people replace them

and now, they wander in my temple
for validation, nursemaid and counsellor
how tiring – this Zen kitchen

where damage from intent is permanent
‘fuck you’ stains the wall
remnants of broken dishes are swept up

while life passes through this Zen kitchen
built on hopes and empty promises
painted daily with fresh tears of disappointment

-L.J. Lenehan-

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