Burying the Toaster

I’ve lived with you for a long time.
I’ve gotten to know your ways.
How you pop up before you’re brown
and how you won’t stay down.

You’ve scared me for years.
I watched your wires sputter fire.
I’ve wondered if the toast was worth a meltdown.
But just when I began to worry
you always smoldered calmly down
and my bread turned crisp and brown.
You served me well
speckled as you were
from too much spattered jam.
But Lord knows you could have burned my house down.

Still, there comes a time
when even toasters have to die.
It must hurt to be thrown away—
to have your cord wrapped
your elements buried with pizza cardboard,
carrot peelings, and apple cores.
But I know you’ll understand.
Good toasters know when their time is up
the bread is gone
and the jam’s been all enjoyed.


—Eric Nelson