A Folded Shape by Lori Yamamoto

A folded shape, a secret kept, On woven bamboo, softly set. A truth unseen, not revealed yet. A folded shape, a secret kept, In swirling, scented clouds that wept From kitchen fires where masters slept. The rhythm starts, a constant, steady step. On woven bamboo, softly set, A fragile world of dui and net, A silent, promising duet Between the hungry and the unmet. A truth unseen, not revealed yet, But felt in heat and silhouette, A whispered, savory coronet. The moment hangs, a lifetime in a bet. In swirling, scented clouds that wept... I see the years of joy and grief I’ve accepted. Each doubt and fear I’ve neatly kept, Like fillings, finely chopped and prepped. We are all parcels of the lives we’ve sculpted. A silent, promising duet... Between the person that I am and the one I try to be. This hunger isn’t just for meat, But for a truth that’s bittersweet: To be unfolded, and be complete. The moment hangs, a lifetime in a bet... I lift the morsel, thin and fine. The outer layer, a design, Gives way to something more divine. The first taste is not yours, but mine. I choose to open. I choose to dine. To unwrap my own and call it... divine. A folded shape, a secret kept, On woven bamboo, softly set. A truth unseen, now fully met.