Under Their Sink
by JOHN K. KRUSCHKE
Underneath their kitchen sink, the shiny
red cylinder stands vigilant, ready
to rescue them from their flammable home,
extinguishing fires, with its thick foam,
that erupt from oven, stove top, or fears,
though flames never appeared in all these years.
​
In their TV cabinet, there is no
sentinel for dousing the inferno
of contempt and dehumanization
that rages uncontrolled on the flat screen,
fought with backfires they might set someday;
meanwhile, they backlight a candle and pray.
​
In the bedroom, a small candle toils
to effuse, for lovers, essence oils,
and to distract, by flickering shadows,
the mental ceiling sprinklers spraying to-do's,
agendas, disappointments, and regrets
that swamp their pelvic floors, make their feet wet.
And in the children's rooms, the foam is deep,
sprayed thick with good intentions, there to keep
the children safe from self-immolation
by unrealistic expectation
of growing up to become an artist,
musician, astronaut, or novelist.
When grown, their recompense will be to think
of the extinguisher under their sink.​​​​
John K. Kruschke has poems published or accepted in Blue Unicorn, The Tipton Poetry Journal, The Lake, Flying Island Literary Journal, Pine Hills Review, Smoky Blue Literary & Arts Magazine, Spare Parts Literary Magazine, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Stickman Review, Discretionary Love, Grand Little Things, and Sage Magazine (x 4). He has also published numerous articles in scientific journals on topics ranging across moral psychology, learning theory, and Bayesian statistics. johnkruschke.com/poems.html