Rosanne Singer Poetry


I Talk to My Daughter's Refrigerator

Arrogant ice box
   with your five tinned delights
placed just so, as if
   hunger were something
artistic, I want to
   hurl you back in time,
a cow flying
   through the air, so that
you would know how carelessly free you are.

She cannot begin
   to understand you,
my shining knight
   against the void. I would
always give back more
   than I took from you.
Couldn't you fancy
   an old-fashioned girl
who still remembers
   1929?

If you were mine
   you would know consuming
passion, as I filled you
   top to bottom,
no mere ornament
   but equal partner.
Lover, I can guarantee
   that once starved,
a human being
   will always be hungry.


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