© 2009 Janice Lore

Requiem for the Fridge

inanimate machine
cornerstone of the kitchen
for 12 years and two months
you are not the hearth
you are the cold heart

you work behind closed doors
preserving staples and condiments
hamburger and filet mignon
you hoard secrets, too
stuffed olives and chocolate
frozen cubes of pesto
iced bottles of
coriander akvavit
all the while moulding, fermenting
quietly transforming the cache to your own end

what do you know of love and grief?
you sit humming loudly all night
for your amusement alone
the tuneless song now a grumble
now a high thin whine
the wintry plain of your face
blooms with photos art poems
still you shut out the warmth of the kitchen

even with all you have witnessed
of life's comedies and tragedies
your glacial centre is untouched
you turn your attention resolutely inward
insist on isolation from the world
doors shut tightly, a frigid facade

you are smug in your place
as one of the kitchen triumvirate
hold a cold disdain
for the grand design that created you
but how can you hope to outrun
diminishing efficiency
and planned obsolescence?

and for your service given,
who will remember? At the end
some other will pull the plug
replace you with a new model
begin the thaw that will either
rot or redeem your heart