Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Meniscus


We are under water.
Shoals of rain flash past: deft, tiny pieces.
Puddle surface breaks like mirrors.
It is the nature of water to unshatter: smooth to its course.
Without flow it chokes.
At home chicken bones are split to broil in a steel pan. Steam jitters the lid, escapes in warmly spiced blooms.




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