……after Sandra Gilbert
Forbidden mash, sweet in our aging body
I stole chunks from the communal table, at dawn
You are the profane yeast of my sins
disintegrating, flowing away under our resolve
The breathed air made you stale, thirsty for water
as we are, here in the desert of our actions
Be the emblem of our resolve:
make bitter the sweet yearning, for cruelty
Dissolve the sour milk in our middens
to empty our stomachs of sin.
Stale loaf, you’re bread from my kitchen
I purge from the shelf, carry to the river
to cast upon waters
You’re promise for an emptied day
of sorrow. No more will I gulp you
as toast to begin a day of distractions
Your molds will float down the waters
to redeem my thoughtless actions
make room for loving kindness
I will hope to absorb as well as give out.
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