Poetry by Joseph Randolph
THE THERMAL GOSPEL OF BURNED HANDS

(recovered from stovetop glass/status: resolved)

I.

In those days
the elements spoke
only in red.
And the boy,
unbelieving,
touched the coil
to prove the devil
was only nichrome.
His fingerprint
sizzled into a glyph.
Somewhere,
a toaster
dinged.

II.

The stove was off.
It was ready.
There is no heat
like readiness—
the expectation
of fire
without flame.

III.

The evangelist
worked in returns.
He bore
the stigmata
of hot glue,
coffee warmer,
lamp socket,
deep fryer.
He named
each scar
after a prophet
who never wrote.

IV.

A woman once
set her arm
on the stovetop
and saw
her ex-boyfriend’s name
appear in grease.
She salted it.
She turned off the gas
by faith alone.

V.

Every oven door
is a false tabernacle.
Open it.
Find:
a cracked Pyrex,
a stick of butter
turned to ritual,
a single gnat
orbiting the center
like doubt.

VI.

When the rice cooker failed,
they blamed
the outlet.
When the second one failed,
they blamed
God.

VII.

You shall not covet
thy neighbor’s air fryer.
But you will.
And when you burn your hand
removing the tray
before it’s done,
you’ll see,
clearly,
briefly,
a face
in the grease.
It will be your neighbor’s.

Joseph Randolph is a writer, musician, and painter who teaches writing at colleges across Ohio. His fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in The Masters Review, Denver Quarterly, The Louisville Review, Allium, and elsewhere, and his work on Heidegger and Gödel is forthcoming in Angelaki: Journal of the Theoretical Humanities. His debut novel, Leaving the Meat Behind, will be published in spring 2027.

Read more from Cleaver Magazine’s Issue #55.

Submit to Cleaver!