the hearth spirit (who lives in the oven)
is displeased again
with the way I leave my frying pan on the stove
and don't wash it immediately.
I sprinkle some flakes in the fish tank
and the water sprite I swore was a gold fish
when I bought her at the pet store
(no wonder the owner refused payment)
complains about how it's always more of the same.
The guardian of the threshold
informs me my shoes are not the best match
for the belt I am wearing;
the garden gnomes are disgruntled
about the un-neat edging I did yesterday
(what is "un-neat"?);
the dryad steps out from her trunk,
arms crossed,
and glowers as I get in the car.
It's the glower that stays with me
and when I get home
I hang the bird house I had promised
and forgotten about.
Then it's in to change and back out again
with the weed whacker.
I hear after, "he's learning"
as I go back through the garage.
The guardian approves
of my taking my sneakers off
at the door,
and when I drop some dried shrimp in the tank
the eager splashing is followed
by a bubbly belch.
I grab a beer and sit down at the kitchen table,
and the hearth spirit asks,
have the Christmas sales started yet?
It's only August, I reply, wiping sweat
with my hand.
It's never too early to start thinking
about family, she replies.
***
audio: https://soundcloud.com/mbonica/household-spirits
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