The Battle In Joe's Kitchen Poem by Kevin Patrick

A Siege of silence stirred, beneath the kitchens verge
As Morning traced through windows, rays of burning gold
On a wall a cat clock grinned, sweating nervous ticks
Pounding fatal drumbeats as dry tension gently explodes

The steward of the house was absent from its halls
Scheduled for traffic in Wednesdays rat race chase
Air was thick with coffee and citric fumes of orange juice
Debris of breakfast littered on the table with disgrace

Then all the clocks cried out at quarter after 8: 00
Cutlery began to march from the pantry drawers
Soon a leaky faucet, dripped batteries of fusillades
Dishes took the baton preparing for the eve of war

All was quiet on the front of the granite countertop
Realms of all crockery stood to observe the truce
But a separatist steak knife sliced a noble china cup
Striking a blow to peace setting flag-wavers on the loose

Cupboards shuddered open with sable-rattle porcelain
Bourgeois saucers funneled forthwith patriotic zeal
Allied plates followed in uniforms of blue and white
Carrying fresh banners with garlands of euphoric steel

But countrymen of silverware were born to make their mark
Private teaspoons and salad forks, were first to make the charge
A General butter knife called out its sharpened point cried
"Utensils of the world unite. Let us sink this tyrant's barge! "

A volley, two volleys, lightning flashes of deadly rage
And the counter became scourge of broken clay
Dinner plates broke in twos, and saucers were smashed
Soon a valleys of white tiles became a potters grave

Lines of saucers fell, broken fragments of their youth
Slaughtered leagues of spoons as they fought for countertop
Poor platters cried their rims were fried, scorched raw grime
Bent forks and spoons crawled, screaming to their final plots

Wave of plates and cups clashed avenging empty ghost
Ceramic sinews gorged, cauterizing rims and brims
Fields of ivory tiles lined with bones of shattered glass
As a crippled spatula grieved on singing lonesome Hymns

For the dying batteries were plunged in their final assault
No victor stood triumphant who waved their tattered ensigns
All cups were chipped and forks were maimed in the final tally
For death was the victor in the battle in Joe's kitchen