The refrigerator is the highest honor a poem can aspire to. The ultimate publication. As close to food as words can come. And this refrigerator poem is honored to be here beneath its own refrigerator magnet, which feels like a medal pinned to its lapel. Stop here a moment and listen to the poem humming to itself, like a refrigerator itself, the song in its head full of crisp, perishable notes that wither in air, the words to the song lined up here like a dispensary full of indispensable details: a jar of corrugated green pickles, an array of headless shrimp, fiery maraschino cherries, a fruit salad, veggie platter, assortments of cheeses and chilled French wines, a pink bottle of amoxicillin: the poem is infectious. It’s having a party. The music, the revelry, is seeping through this white door.
Comments always are welcome.
For more information on poet Paul Hostovsky, please click HERE.
For Allan Burns’s “Refrigerator Haiku,” more illustrations by his wife Theresa, whose cover art is shown above, and information about the Haiku Foundation, please click HERE.