A thick, well-measured batter flows
into rectangular loaf, scalloped bundt,
metallic alloyed steel rows,
even and orderly.
But after the high-speed blending,
the meticulous, unyielding sifting of
stubborn clumps through fine mesh wires,
she remains gritty-textured, tough to swallow.
Burnt-skinned crust and too much
salt, she swells the tongue.
Under the heat, expected to rise
beautifully, she’s accustomed to offering
herself
as sustenance.
But she is learning to resist,
escaping flames
not as flaky croissant,
delicate lady finger, teasing tart,
but as a brick, hard and solid,
ready to build, to shatter windows,
splinter doors, watch them
choke.
