She presses her belly against the hob
and drops balls of broken dough,
strung out and held in nets. The water is furious.
She watches so they don’t turn sad,
so they swell to rhizomes,
and then she lets them sit, tied up and resting.
Upstairs, she searches for a silky
thing of bone
to make a waist; she hooks and knots,
she holds her breath, lifts her ribs,
creates a shape, and pulls –
the figure stays: bait.
She stands to eat the dumplings
steamed to diamonds. Her silhouette shifts and digs.