Fire Blanket

In the early hours I hear a clink and a light
thud in the kitchen, which means now I'm fully 
awake. I wonder if I should take a look and more,
if I should bring some kind of heavy object with me 
that I can swing if whatever made the noise might happen 
to be an unwelcome intruder. There being no other sound, 
I walk in my bare feet and peer over the banister. What's 
fallen to the floor is the Fire Blanket, still in its red 
pouch but too heavy for the hook pressed to the side of 
the stovetop island. The ad said it was an important buy, 
but something the manufacturer hoped no one would ever 
actually have to use. Pressing it back in place, I too hope 
it will just hang there, a flag unfolded but ready to snap 
to full proportion, should the air heat beyond a simmer.