Is That All There Is, Julia Child?

The Second Sonnet of Thermodynamics

The green refrigerator is a cricket
in the winter kitchen. In the sink,
the river flows beside a lettuce thicket
salad fast and coffee deep. I drink
a second cup. The stove ignites the sky
with mythologic stews cooked up from cold
northeastern appetites that terrify
the rabbits and potato fields. Behold
the cabinet of gods discussing salt
and other seasonal affairs of state.
They underestimate that tilted fault
running underneath the dinner plate.
It drops and shatters on the icy floor.
That’s all the chef has made. There’s nothing more.

~Son Rivers 2006