is the source from which all else comes alive
like the yeast foaming and rising and bubbling
in the warm water and molasses, that sweet
dark syrup—sticky like sex on your skin—when
the twin loaves come steaming out of the oven
you think of Christ, and say, “Take, eat; this is
my body,” presenting the bread, still warm from
the oven, to the apparition before you, and he takes
with his hands, and his mouth, hungry—groping
and gnawing, and it feels so good, even the guilt
to be devoured—the living yeast foaming and rising
and bubbling—Take, eat; this is my body—bubbling
in the warm, wanting only to be consumed, dripping
sweet, dark molasses, and the apparition is nearly
solid, as he tells you how good your bread tastes
and you thank him, with regret that he isn’t real,
that tomorrow your fingers will grope for him in
the early dawn—when the birds are singing sweetly
to one another, outside your window, through
condensation—hung in a half moon—and they
will close into fists, around nothing but air
was born and raised in central Maine, where she is currently attending the University of Maine at Farmington for Creative Writing. Her work has been published in KYSO Flash and The Halcyone Literary Review.
