she started baking bread
cooking with a possession
part passion part fascination
dedication to resultant loaf
perfection that only she will know for now
constantly thinking about it
dreaming about it, all those features
the alchemy drenches her days
the rest of life trivial
and inside herself she worked deeply on the
process of what it would take
the lead up, the bake
she’s committed to the relationship
what to do, add, subtract
details and things that can’t be simply shown
hungry for experience
of the bread
we forget how much lives in the
the questions that wreaked joyous and terse havoc
her inner chewing the gift not just to
the other end of my butter knife
she all the while propells herself forward
a steady   thundrous   gallup
up and out of
an ouroboric ennui whose
purpose all along
was to keep her from the shallows
of the lost

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