The Fifth Dimension – Ann Sadedin


In Grandma’s kitchen

It was not the cavernous stove

With its mantelpiece.

It was not the table where she

Worked the gingerbread machine

Churning out endless belts

Of furrowed biscuit dough.

It was not the milk jugs

Covered with beaded nets

Or the giant flowery cheese dish.

It was the cellar –

Under the table a trapdoor

With a ladder going down –

Shelves crowded with jam and marmalade

Rows of preserves, bottles of wine

A basket with wrinkly apples

Onions hung on strings

In its chill musty air

And in the shadows

Beyond the naked bulb’s eerie light

Lived ghosts and goblins.

Today’s kitchens

Forego that fifth dimension.


Copyright Ann Sadedin 2013

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