The bread I knead...
Which in my oven
I baked…
Removing it from heat
In time to tinge itsGolden crust…
With the blade
I sharpened…
Into warm
Buttery slices...Presenting it
To your open lips…
To lay upon the altar
Of your waiting tongue…
Is infused
By touchWith my own
Divine genes…
That I might find a home…
In your belly.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment