Bread and Breath
A witness poem by Josef Hammer. A woman kneading before light, the end piece shared out still warm, and the cracks in her knuckles.
I wake before light, the room cold and spare.She kneads, palm then heel, flour on her wrists.Breath is warm dough, soft under a cloth,its rise felt through the skin of her hands.Steam beads the window, dampens my fringe.Ache sits deep in bone; she keeps the pace.She lifts the cloth; the heat meets my face.We share the end piece, salted, still warm.Cracks in her knuckles sting, then quiet.I wash the bowl; porcelain cools my palms.The oven ticks; heat eases out.She sets the cup down.
Filed · Josef Hammer