Ode to the New Oven

Back in November, we got a new oven. I should say, we got a working oven. Since late September, we had mastered a number of stovetop dishes and resigned ourselves to having no home-baked goods. But one day in November, two gruff men tore through our living room, rearranged everything, wheeled out the old oven, wheeled in the new, and I promptly made a tuna casserole. And I wrote this:

Ode to the New Oven

Long-hoped-for mouth
of iron and heat,
you bring into the house
the legacy of food--

generations thirsting
at your nightly sighs
of good, hot breath;
anticipating the birth of

sweet, warm bread
rolled over
in the hand
and heavy in the stomach.

You bring into this house
the promise of a home
warm as a belly
on snow-heavy days;

of life
rolled over in the hand
like soft bread--
sweet on the tongue.