I put it on and stood there,which is more patiencethan I give most things.
No sound yet. No white rope of steam.Just the coil going orange underneath,taking its one degree at a time,same as anything that finally gives in.
The handle warmed before the water did.That seems backwardsuntil you think about it.
I did not pray.I did not think about my mother.I watched a pot of waterdecide to boil, and let it.
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Nadia Osei1 November 2026
"No prayer, no mother" is such a quiet way to refuse a bigger moment. The handle warming before the water does is the kind of small, exact observation that earns that refusal in the next stanza. Precise writing, the kind that doesn't need to tell you what it means.