Water sits in a pot on the stove.
Sometimes, it boils.
Bubbles rise to the brim
hoping to overflow
on to the glass surface below.
It is madness and fury.
It is sadness and defiance.
I grip the stainless-steel dial
and lower the heat until the
bubbles subside in the iron pot.
One by one, they pop and disappear.
The water still burns.