Installation Of An Ikea Kitchen Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

They are coming the men
grafting something space age
onto something stone age
these walls are nearly daub and wattle
but they will come the men
men with sharp angles
they will move aside like erring fronds of hair
wires that dangle dead ended
wires out of which we hope
gleaming kettles will suckle
these executioners who will measure and trim
my fond chipped and rounded corners blasted as the moon
will they come early or start at noon?

For this is a bolt-on, its a fix
not a concept or dare I say, a grand design
so long as I can dust the table white
and roll mydough, set out the slow cook
Im not excited by gleaming bars and cubist taps
worst of all, my old steam radio has had to go

Theres a blue light now that beckons from a silver cone
and asks me in oystershell voice, what I've got
in mind today?
So I say the weather's fine
lets go out and play

Nov 2019