put your lips togehter and whistle

remember the shrill
whistle
of the tea pot
on the stove,
the front burner,
the knob
turned all the way
to the right
making the coils
glow.
how it held my patient
love
against the silver side.
remember how the steam
would rise into the room
and rattle
the pot,
forced out into blooms,
fog and heat together.
a wet steam telling
me that it's time,
that finally you were mine.