Bread

From the collection Voluptuary.

Last night I was
a field of wheat.
Last night, I was ripe.
Last night, I was cut from my roots
and my skin tossed to the wind.
Last night, my heart
was separated from my body
and ground to a powder.
Last night I was a bag of flour.
Last night, I was carried countless miles
by cart, truck, ship, train and plane.
Last night I danced with eggs and yeast
and salt and sugar and water.
Last night, hands I did not know
kneaded my flesh.
Last night, I forgot who I was.
Last night, I was laid to rest
on a metal bed, but I rose again.
Last night I slept in an oven.
Last night, I was perfume.
Last night, my hot new body
was sliced into pieces
and painted with honey.
Last night, I felt your lips
your tongue, your teeth.
Last night, I touched you in places
no fingers can reach!
My wish was your promise,
my dream, your need,
my army, your fingers.
Last night, I became you.

And this morning?
This morning I awoke.
I awoke hungry.

 
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