The kettle's whisper,
lid askew,
a hint of madness brews.
Silent witnesses abound,
yet only they understand.
Laughter in the mire,
spoon bent incorrectly,
stirrings of the lost.
Tomato, basil,
an essence unspoken.
Around the iron pot,
they gather, clamor,
the recipe screamed
once, never again—
from sands of history.
The Old Ladle's Tale
Boil Yourself and Other Wisdom