Decapitated

by Terese Svoboda

It’s a teakettle, not a teapot, the vessel
              you boil water in, not the steeper. This one whistles


when it’s ready,
                            it commands your presence,
                                          mocking your impatience with its steam.


              To hear voices makes you schizo.
To hear the dead makes you socially unacceptable.
                            To hear the dead speak from a spout barely hot
is interesting.

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