You boiled the apples.
APPLES, Sarai, APPLES!!
Dingy, bobbing putrefaction;
Oh for the saving grace of Mary@%#$&!
—stuttered Sarai in her apron-of-mother
speckled with mustard, spackled with
Give me the irate water!!
he shouted, doing battle,
stick of pine wrapped between
blistered digits, whipping the rim
COME AT ME! You vile Calphalon!
As he hacked at the steel, left
no more stainless, but jagged bent
and roughly abused.
he tortured it, hung by its only
and asked it:
What have you told Nebuchadnezzar?
WHAT HAVE YOU?!?