October 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Five
Marianne LaValle Vincent
BREAD

I make bread
while you love
her
not knowing what else to do
I punch the dough
a hundred times
till it is smooth
and dimple
free

I wait as it
rises
never thinking it could
fall

it bakes
to perfection
the aroma
intoxicates
and comforts

at night when you return
I will smell only the
bread
and not the odor of
infidelity

and you will feast on the
loaves
instead of me
RETURN TO OCTOBER 2005