Margeaux Walter   © 2012 All Rights Reserved

The Night Kitchen

It all began with a sleepless moon
counting cows and covering the counters
with sudsy light. The dented and rusty
still speak of that night, boast how
they used to dine with the dish and spoon,
and the young follow in their footsteps:
the trivet eloped with the teapot,
the spatula proposed to the pan,
and somewhere, they say,
the sieve and whisk are shacking up.

But the carving knife keeps company
with no one. Head buried deep
in a wooden block, he shuns the dull
familiar, the futile utensil love.
Let them tie their knots. He will write
mash notes to occlusive consonants,
the plosive sounds of divide
and divorce. Sometimes at night
he can be heard moaning softly,
stirred by the glint of memory:

the firm grip of the farmerís wife,
the mice who never saw what was coming,
the three tails writhing.


Brandel France de Bravo
Copyright © 2012  

Brandel France de Bravo is author of the poetry collection, Provenance, and the editor of Mexican Poetry Today: 20/20 Voices. Her poetry has recently appeared in Alaska Quarterly Review, the Cimarron Review, the Cincinnati Review, and the Fairy Tale Review.

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