Suburban Alchemy

The last Igor switch thrown,
Arcing blue across the range.
Vile vials of darkest potions,
Notions new and terrors strange.
Shades flicker in the light;
Small crooked figure bent
In task of utmost urgency
Before the night is spent,
With cabbalistic tomes of weight
Decoded through the lines
Of others who’d achieved desire
In lore profound and signs.
It Lives, she cried triumphant
Toward quivering burbling mass,
But the soufflé sank beyond redeem,
At the cooking master-class.

04

----------------
minor edit 29.06.10