"Last year sharks killed nine people globally—a mere driblet compared to defective toasters, which killed 781."
AP Newswire
No primordial killing machine
designed
by nature could be this singularly
harmless looking, with neither fins
nor teeth,
its long black cord functioning not
so much as a tail—to balance
or locomote—
but as lifeline to the sleekly-built
appliance with its open gills of
chrome, spring
jaw, and burnt-crumb breath.
And yet despite these deficiencies,
it swims,
if statically, in a current strong
enough to carry away an Olympian,
its boxlike
form dictated by function, if not
the fetished mind of Martha Stewart.
Hidden in
plain sight, usually in the cove or bay
of a kitchen, it waits to strike down
the unwary,
the unsuspecting innocent
who, hungry for a pastry or bagel,
but distracted
by the menialness of the task,
does not notice the frayed cord,
blissfully placing
his hand too close to the open slits
or the shiny body of the appliance
itself,
anticipating the sweet butter-and-jam
taste in his mouth, the delicious chew
of crust,
completely oblivious as to what lays
in wait for him, deadlier than any
shark,
even if able to make perfect toast.