I woke up in the oven,
my mother standing outside
laughing at me.

I pressed my palms
against the oven door;
they sizzled.
Heat jolted through my arms.

My skin was peeling,
while my hair frizzed
and fried.
My feet were black.
All feeling was lost.

I gave the door a tremendous shove,
and spilled onto the kitchen floor.
The cold tile felt pleasant against
the limbs I could still feel.

I looked up and saw my brother
Fall frozen from the freezer.
His skin was white as the ice
that flourished over his hair.
His nose was a crimson red.


My mother stood over us cackling.
A wine bottle in one hand,
a syringe in the other.