You can drown in an inch of water if
You are face down and can’t get up
She thinks
Staring at the spreading puddle  

Life is like that
One moment a puddle, the next
Boiling like a lobster in a stock pot  
Tail thrashing, cortisol leaking
From dying flesh  

She slips the towel from the rack, bends
Wipes the puddle, watching the wetness transfer
Floor to towel to soul and she wonders
Is this enlightenment