Copper
with a handle and a spout

I could always tell
when it was about to blow

at first
you’d hear what I call

pressure pops

like someone snorting
to suppress a laugh
or a sneeze

then came a low whistle
soon
to crescendo into a squeal

finally
the bubbling over

the troubling concept
of steam

and how one releases it

Whit Howland © 2020