Sunday, August 1, 2010

Ice Box, 1949


I remember the burly man with great metal claws

As he toted a huge diamond into the kitchen,

a chunk of ice for the box.

It glowed like a crystal chandelier,

but froze my small probing fingers.

Small items were on the top shelf,

A buttery slab, ruby hued strawberries, a lone ear of corn.

Sparkling glass bottles of milk with cream on top

filled the lower shelf.

They looked like snowy penguins

huddled by an Arctic sea.

The bottles felt as smooth and cold as polished stones

in a gushing stream.

In the summer I loved to touch their smooth coolness

and sip the creamy delight,

a taboo so delicious to breach

and not get caught!


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