Spilling tales into textual permanence,
the writer happens upon her call.
As natural as this clumsy reach for a plastic cup
across the couch and onto the table
that began dry and then gingerly flooded with clear liquid.
We say, ‘it’s only water’
and continue through our day.
That’s how it begins—
in a scene that leaves a mark,
water on wood,
pen on paper.