The smell of raw rice
in burlap bag
drifts sss,
scooped
fingertips swirl white grains
in warm water -
absentminded
swish,
tipping
cloudy liquid
slowly - painfully aware
the lower lip
of
pot
lined up, dangling precarious
fishbowl eye view
I’ll save you -
savior complex
yours
the arc
fluffy rice is phenomenal
cooked.
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 