Boiling Water

A steel pot on the stove
confines the calm water
as our trap holds our tongue

The fire hisses
in the ears of air
and the air bubbles
on being stung

The water searches
for a crack
to seep away
or cool the fire

The air storms into
the cool of water
and pinches the monster
in a divine depth

once healed the burn
now burns in pain

A million eyes
and no iris
blink on the floor and 
walls of the pot

The monster
opens its eyes
wider and wider
exploding a few
and sees nothing

The eyes stomp hard
on the floor
to escape the grave

One watery eye
perches on the hat
of the pot
its pain vaporising

The monster whines
pulls the shackles
The hat pounds
But when did the dead
open the grave?

The watery eye looks
in its reflection
a growling monster
consuming itself

The watery eye
gives a sigh
as if a soul beholding
its sleeping self

PS- Shall I turn off the stove?

14 thoughts on “Boiling Water

  1. 😍😍😍😍 it’s time for me to be the one who speaks first… woow, Nebula. Such beautiful poem. So raw and yet heartfelt! Thank you so much for sharing this with us!!❀️❀️❀️ Just lovely and beautiful!!

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