Poem: The Scalding

June 22nd, 2010

The drip-drip of water into the pot.
Setting it on the stove,
I turn the dial slowly to “Hot” and watch
And wait.
The result is already known:
Heat + water = boiling and steam.
As the bubbles form at the bottom,
I stick my hand over the pot to feel
The heat rising.  And rising.
And rising.
Not ready yet though.
Finally, cascading to the surface – it’s time.
I plunge my hand in,
Feeling the water scald my skin,
My muscles and nerves screaming out.
But I cannot pull back.
The pot must be emptied.
Inside, I’m shouting, “No, no, NO!”
But I raise the pot over my head
And pour the rest out.
As the boiling water joins my tears,
My cheeks red from shame, pain, and fears,
I set the pot in the sink.
The drip-drip of water into the pot.
I’ll be healed when it’s full, to do it again.

Sarah ><>

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