to our gas stove

i return to the gas stove
all through the night
to listen to each burner
holding my breath 
while i lean my head down 
face to black metal grate
waiting to hear the soft hiss 
it makes when the gas 
is left on with no flame

a few days ago 
one of us left the gas on 
& i woke up (lucky)
to the dull insidious smell
lurking all over the house
how you explain the smell
of a gas stove? is this
how restless ghosts smell?
like a fire that wants 
to break open
like the house wants to bloom 

i opened all the doors
to let the gas out
& the cold night air 
kissed the door frames until
the smell was almost gone
i imagined the gasoline 
& the night wind 
as stork-like birds
circling each other 
bones tangle 
with wanting

i found feathers 
in the corners of my bed room
they gave off the faint
scent of gas
& i took a lighter to them
they burst
first into daffodils 
then blue flames
i flinched & dropped 
them to the floor where
they (lucky) smoldered out
no matter how many times
i burned them
the feathers came back

so here i am 
a chair pulled up
to sit & watch the stove
i say prayers to the stove
i say
have mercy on me 
which i realize 
is pathetic
what bothers me most
is that i can't understand
what the stove wants

i keep seeing 
long legs birds a whole
bunch of them
contorted & trapped  
in the oven
pressing legs & wings
to the little window
i open the door but none
of them will come out
i think they want me
to turn the gas on
myself & i think about
it for a second
the way those creatures
would pour they way
the gas would make
the place all murky
& how fast the walls
would turn inside out

i tell the birds
no
no
i won't do it

i'll wait here until
morning comes
i'll open the doors
& let the chill of 
this april night
keep me awake
as i burn one feather
at a time
just one