mama burns the milk in the black pan as she stirs brown sugar in by hand

bringing it to a simmer humming a wordless tune which echoes through the room in rhythm with the stirrings of the wooden spoon

adding in droplets of water like tears in the mixture to keep the pan from scalding

when she feels the thickness she pours the steaming liquid into rows of iron molds scorching her fingers as the steam comes back upon her like words in retribution but she continues in her motions until the pan is emptied

mama sits on a broken chair wiping the sweat dripping from her hair as the cool begins to harden the candies in their prison closing her eyes only for a moment before rising to put up the milk and sugar and to wash the cold dirtied pan to make room for evening dinner

as mama boils a pan of water she begins to hum

the same wordless tune

David E. Cowen