The pressure cooker whistles
A day starts
Dancing and singing
Dodging and dribbling
Olives and onions, turnips and tomatoes
Seven steps wide, twelve steps long
My kitchendom has everything
That a woman must need
Spices neatly strung at areachable height
Spoons arranged like the piano keys
Full moon chapatis shine
Twenty-four hours round the clock
I sing to thaw the chill
Dance quick rounds to describe my world
My hands are rough with scrubbing and cleaning
But the smooth aubergine reminds me
Of some healing touch and
The 29th Symphony
The canvas calls ...
squeezing time between lime and analgesic tubes
I draw a perfect moon on
a midday sky
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