The Thickening

Sadhitva stood at the kitchen counter spinning red powder,
oil, and eggs with her wooden spoon, back turned to the world.
She spun and spun and watched, and spun and watched;
the eggs melted away, the oil absorbed,
they blended together,
so fast, together, so far
together, into incessant circles.
And she circled the mix, and she thought:
I’ll move faster, that would move it along, that would
    make more sense.
So again and again with her arms fleshy and worn again
    and again she stirred
until maniacally she circled, her chest beating faster
    and faster, and began to see
what life would be like if the batter were simply
    perfectly smooth;
perhaps then she would have done something right.