Wise Cook
I watched her from my window
when fire delays to light
she pours in it water with rage
then flogs the fire-stones
and all is smoke and wetness
then she starts all over again
Each time she is annoyed
throws abuses at the foolish fire
at the day’s end hunger creeps in
her family curse biting hunger
as neighbors eat their fill in joy
By evening the wise cook goes out
asking for charity and left-overs
which she eats alone in hiding
as offspring, husband maid starve
One night she dreamed a dream
Fire stood up and advised her;
“You call yourself wise cook, no!
You are a foolish servant-cook
Why can’t you use wood I love?”
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