Not Until it was Too Late
Day and night chanted the pots.
Beating the rhythms, spoons and forks
kept time. The phones rang in amens
to the chorus saying, “Yes, we agree.”
The seductive message bade me give in
against my better judgment.
“There’s so much at stake” I countered.
Having no interest in missing out
on either responsibility or a chance at fun,
I think they smelled my fence-straddled position.
“Try it and the cups will bail you out
if need be. Fear it not, all will work out
as you want.” Even the mugs hummed
their hypnotic assent.
It went on this way that they continued
their mesmerizing serenade,
whittling away my resolve, and I noticed
their unified stance was becoming my own.
Eventually I couldn’t tell the difference.
Still in a daze after days of relentless indoctrination,
I think I heard me giving my agreement.
“Okay, then,” and in I went for a swim.
In midair above the water with no way to un-jump,
I saw most clearly the true folly of my choice.
It was a month in an instant
as the heat swelled above the rolling waters.
I saw vegetables bursting through
the searing bubbling broth.
I could hear them now, saying
“No! Don’t come in, you fool!”
“Too late!” I managed before I slipped in.
And in the last bitter moment as the
hurt pained and sent me numb
before my head went under
I fully knew I was right to hesitate
and understood now my goose was cooked.
© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers
This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #12, secret codes. Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.
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