Requiem for an appliance

Something standing in a house
eight years unmoving
should be family–
those people
we cannot move easily,
stubbing toes
sometimes on their hard edges
& them without the grace or ability
to apologize (it was our toes
kicking themย after all)

either way
something should be said
about the fridge dying
besides a complaint
that the beer is warm as piss
as the scrapper wheels the corpse
out the door, like maybe
thanks for all the ice cream


At Dverse, it is all about doors, and I reworked a piece about something wheeled out of a door ๐Ÿ˜‰

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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52 Responses to Requiem for an appliance

  1. lillian says:

    ah…..out loud chuckle for this one! Smiling I am. Great take on the prompt….thanks so much for posting ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Oh how fun. I guess in a way, we do have relationships with those things…sometimes a bit adversarial. Great, unique response to the prompt!

  3. kanzensakura says:

    I like this muchly.. I was so angry at beting “betrayed” by our fridge after an incredible length of time, that I manhandled the monster myself out the door. Never gonna do that again! Thanks for all the ice cream – indeed! Glad you joined us over here.

  4. BroadBlogs says:

    I love the contradictions coming together in this poem!

  5. therisa says:

    Can safely say, I never had to experience this joy, of a fridge breaking down on me. Unlike my uncle and aunt, who were on vacation, when it happen. Lets just say, their house had an unique scent to it, for a few weeks, before it disappear. Luckily, it was still under warranty. Is that ice cream, butterscotch? If so, may I have some?

  6. Ha.. yes that specific door we have to treat with care… (and don’t forget the plums)

  7. Glenn Buttkus says:

    I smiled a lot while reading this piece; for so many of us have pushed through doors into darkness today, death, despair, the unknown. Nice that you found a creative way to use the door prompt; what fun.

  8. Sanaa Rizvi says:

    Such a delightful take on the prompt ๐Ÿ˜€

  9. This reminds me of a poem by Sarah Kay of a romance between a bicycle wheel and a toothbrush. A really fantastic poem, with lots of emotion.

  10. whimsygizmo says:

    Awwwww. I love this take. We DO get disgusted when things die, don’t we? Instead of thankfulness for all they were while they were here. Thanks for all the ice cream. Thanks for all the clean clothes. Thanks for all the perfect toast. Thanks for all the memories. ๐Ÿ˜‰

  11. Grace says:

    I am smiling as I read this ~ Sad to say goodbye when it was keeping all our ice cream, chocolotes and cakes ~ Hey, good to see you Susan ~

  12. ihatepoetry says:

    Very fun – yes, thanks for all the ice cream.

  13. We had a brand new fridge that smelled like fish when the doors were opened…. we gladly got rid of that. I love the line “thanks for all the ice cream”

  14. Interesting take on the prompt.

  15. jaybluepoems says:

    Enjoyed this very much. Dang fridge! Warm beer… and the scrapper… well done.

  16. maria says:

    *a moment of silence for the steel corpse*
    The fridge! Definitely one of my favorite doors! ๐Ÿ˜€ Clever take on the prompt, Susan!

  17. Misky says:

    Excellent. Loved this.

  18. My fridge is so old it is, indeed, family! Grew up with it. Still keeps the beer and wine wonderfully cold.

  19. Oh! Meant to add it’s a wonderful poem.

  20. Haha – fabulous! They serve us well, our white goods, we take them for granted until they give up the ghost. Only then do we notice them!

  21. Doors oF tools
    of human kind..
    Guns and Roses..
    Cars and Homes
    yes.. fridges..
    and stoves..
    all doors
    human touch..:)

  22. PSC says:

    LOL Thanks for all the ice cream — indeed. Love your tongue-in-cheek take on this prompt! Thanks for the giggles. ๐Ÿ™‚

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