on Kayang Street hollows
a well in a mound of flour,
then pours in a trickle of water.
Outside in the alley, stray
cats mew near the garbage bins.
A scatter of salt,
then two fists in the dough.
He pulls and stretches
until a rope is ready to divide
into moons— Roll them thin
so you can fill them,
pleat them, crimp
each of their ovals shut.
Into the basket go
more than a dozen bundles,
their bellies plump,
their shrimp dreams visible
as filaments of steam.
[LAG-other-response date=”10 14 2014″ url=”https://www.vianegativa.us/2014/10/dosage/” title=”Via Negativa: Dosage”]
Wonderful!