Science  Write  Now

She asked me to put the kettle on.
I hopped up, grabbed the generous

arc over its copper-shine body, lit 
the gas. The noise was a wheeze 

I stayed to hear. The breeze increased 
and a magnificent apple-green flame 

I’d never seen, shot from the spout 
and flickered. It was a colour I wanted 

to wear in crisp light cotton to counter 
the heat of our long humid summers.

Suddenly the spout fell off.
What? I thought and stopped the gas.

I lifted the lid and saw how I’d failed
to check on the water inside, how

there was none, how her keepsake 
kettle was done for and so was I.