quote for the week: The Machines (from the Widows' Handbook)

The Machines

by Jacqueline Kudler

First the grill ignition failed, 

then, not ten days later and

two months after you died,

the fridge condense went

but slowly--

for days I watched

the glacier crawling down

along the back wall.

It wasn't too much longer

before the timers in the double

 oven and the freezer

quit, as if some universal

clock had simply stopped

somewhere, all dials fixed

at midnight.

By his fourth call,

the National Appliance guy

opined he'd never witnessed 

such a run of luck--

everything breaking down

like that around me.

He hoped (with eyes 

accustomed to assessing

hairline cracks and fissures)

that I was holding up OK.

I told him how my days,

amazingly enough, go well.

I wake, bathe, lunch with

friends, call the kids,

and at night when I sit

down at the table, I light

a candle at your place.

Oh, I'm doing well

enough, I said,

but given their histories,

the nature of their finely

wired dispositions,

I wouldn't presume 

to speak

for the machines.