Francis Santaquilani

E.D. - Poem by Francis Santaquilani

E.D. ascend for me always,
Without end, in your kitchen
Suddenly frozen in mid-knead,
Leave your dough to rise,
Toss your apron aside,
Wipe the flour from your hands,
Float upstairs
With a fire in your head and
Lock your bedroom door.

E.D. descend for me always,
Without end, in white, slowly
Slowly down the curved staircase,
Glowing and soundless around
The bend and soundless on
To the kitchen again
To serve me always,
Without end, generous portions
Of your fresh bread, your fire
And possibility.

Comments about E.D. by Francis Santaquilani

  • Rookie Barbara Schutz (10/29/2005 8:30:00 AM)

    I think you have talent! (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie Shelley B. Keats (10/10/2005 7:23:00 PM)

    THe perfect item for the end of October! It does have a creepy quality about it-in the good sense of couse! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 10, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, December 12, 2011

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