i wander these alleys all the time sometimes parallel to the ones i’m travelling from the room to the kitchen down to shower a child feed some wash some sit in a corner and i turn the corner to find the milk to boil the button to sew the beds to make a poem to write a hand to wash a rhyme that doesn’t work too common too varied not the feeling i have let me just finish this kheer before it gets stuck to the bottom of the pan oscillate no that’s a strong feel and if it sticks to the bottom the burnt smell overpowers the milk and sugar taste everything is spoilt and the time spent is time not counted
in the corner of an hour
warm feelings curl up against a cold chest
comfort comes in patches of old quilts
some people that left
unsaid words
and the smoke rises
from a house
tired bones cooking tea
here, we cook not brew
wait not leave
simmer never boil
stay even when
especially when
unbearable
January 2021
still the pandemic year