|
I make bread
while you love
her
not knowing what else to do
I punch the dough
a hundred times
till it is smooth
and dimple
free
I wait as it
rises
never thinking it could
fall
it bakes
to perfection
the aroma
intoxicates
and comforts
at night when you return
I will smell only the
bread
and not the odor of
infidelity
and you will feast on the
loaves
instead of me
copyright 2005
Marianne
LaValle-Vincent |
