Cardamom ~ Saturday, March 21, 2026

If nobody asks me, then must he know

Inside, we watch television and wait
for dinner, our mom cooking at the stove

never could we understand this moment
only later, as adults, such a trait
blossoms in gratitude, this perspective
objectivity observes as a clove
drops into a pot to release fragrant
yesterdays, subjectivity in thoughts

as deep as the Mariana Trench, dive
surface to ten thousand meters for love
kindness in a pot of biryani
succumbs to a flavorful past, above

merchants await our catch, drink port, tawny
empty bottles litter the deck, slipknots

trace emotions back to events, the fence
how separate we are from our neighbors
each step, a misstep, as spicy crab rolls
never process their grievances, so dense

mustard gas tastes sweet until my lungs bleed
until my heart bursts, until my brain pours
salt on the wounds, open up all the holes
trepanation relieves too much pressure

hamburger before dinner, stoned for greed
excessive hunger, empty stomach, wait

kindness on a plate, at the stove, our mom
never too tired to cook, lies await
obedience to the rules, nom nom nom
when she feels too tired, food is the cure

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