Sometimes it happens between aisles
in Waitrose. I mistake marmalade for

kaya, think of toast, mouth "nonsense"—
but not alamak. It leaves slowly: trust God

to curse the tongue with groceries. For even
an epiphany needs some state between

betweens. Too pliable the thought, they say,
will end in nothing to eat. Or: trim only

the edges lah. So I trim, am trying, reading
dialect in tea leaves, pretending winter-rain

in England is monsoon season. Presume cheese
is cheese is cheese. Trust only simple nouns—

despite knowing that potpourri has nothing on
rojak. Ridiculous how a radiator tinkers with

air in reverse. How remembering is
an exercise repeated fruitlessly.