Porridge for One Please.

Drips of glazed porridge cater the plastic

Walls, uneven cloves of oil smile at me

As I watch it make its way from the bottom,

Now top, of the container to me, slowly.

 

Gentle taps, dance at the bottom top

To get stubborn clumps of wet rice to fall,

But they don’t. Spoon-less, I watch them

Defy gravity, as they continue to chatter.

 

I wait, because there’s not much else to do,

And wait, because patience enjoys its waltz

With leisure. So I wait, with starry eyes at my

White galaxy, that refuses to obey its rules.

 

 I see it shift its weight, so very slightly

That it could’ve been wishful thinking,

Or perhaps boredom, that made it move.

Regardless, I can only wait, arm tired.

 

The clumps, resolute, so I put the container

Down, and just stare at the sky, my sky,

A blue ceiling, painted over a glazed plastic

Cover. The clump of rice beside me, chatters.