Apology

[Philatone]

The pot foams at the mouth,
mushrooms and overflows.

No temper bathes in its wrath
until all that is left is salt
stained on the stove.

No anger is fueled by a store of gas,
cranked and closed in turns.

The heat that hardens iron
softens pasta slid in water,

strained and scooped
into a bowl.

No rage soothes
as it descends
from summit,

the way a meal
can calm an evening;

all it can do
is cover footsteps
with melting,
melted snow.

[Leanne]

Isn't it a shame that a true apology is so rare? Most fail to abandon the anger and offer platitudes grudgingly to cast the illusion of forgiveness. I have lost my critic's hat today, but I have been provoked to thought by the poem, so perhaps all hope is not lost

[Chaotic Body]

Is this about a peace offering?

I got the image of the cooking sounds 'covering' begrudgingly obtrusive footsteps coming in from outside.. boots with snow

I'm really confused here but it's good to have to wonder

[Philatone]

I think I may have gone overboard a bit with the piece. i'll see what I can do to tone it down.

thanks for the time leanne, chaotic