The Blue Safety

Three in the morning is a heavy door

that won't quite shut and won't quite open wide.

I pace the kitchen on the linoleum floor

with all the static buzzing deep inside.

I lean against the stove to check the dial,

to see the pilot light is still awake.

It’s been a ritual for a long, long while,

a little bit of care for safety’s sake.

I watch the steady, small blue crown of fire

against the steel, a quiet, humming ghost.

Before the house can start to tire,

I need to know the thing that matters most.