The Cook – A Poem

The Cook

There was a cook
who rested on Sundays
and in a melodramatic flurry
asked his wife
if the kids enjoyed the zoo.

“Murray really liked the zebras
of course
and James the crocodiles.
Rather shocking isn’t it?”

The cook watched his wife
wash the dishes as
the children watched a video.

He relayed a story to her
a bit of news he had to tell
and she cried
her tears bursting small sudsy bubbles
as they fell.

The cook did not like
his wife
to cry and thought to hold her
for comfort
but was afraid.

“What’s wrong with mommy?”
Murray asked
coming into the room
to investigate
the commotion
dressed in striped pajamas.

Shadows entered from
the open window
and the cook said “Nothing”
to his son
and noticed the hollow sound
of his own voice.

The cook went to check
how the chicken
was coming along
as it fried
on the stove
and the flavors blended
in a cream sauce
the smell of thyme
scurrying out
when he opened the top.

He touched the small of his
wife’s back
felt her shiver
and smile
when she said
“But our wedding was grand, though.
Really it was, right?”

Kissing her cheek through
the tears
he said “Yes, dear. It surely
was grand.”

“Oh, the poor darling,” she said
turning to him
and caressed his face
weathered and careworn
with her wet hands.


5 thoughts on “The Cook – A Poem

  1. Very nice, I like the phrasing a lot and find the poem enjoyably ambiguous. A few spots where the pause placement between lines changes the meaning, I like to use that artifice as well.

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