On the perfection in small mistakes

*** This is post no. 1 in a series of photo’s taken from my life and poems written about them. Some poems will be true, some fictitious. Which are which? I’ll never tell ***

On the perfection in small mistakes

Slide the tomato under
the water’s stream, turn off
the faucet, expose the tiny cities
of round, clustered seeds in caves
inside. The directions flow
thru her hear, the sun reaches

for her. She grips the green knife handle,
smelling the spicy rice, she turns down
the burner, and curses herself for prepping
the vegetables too early, severing
the corn kernels from a cob.