Eat the flesh I bear

Eat the flesh I bear

From the fruits of your labour.

The bread of my efforts,

Each strain baked till

I could no longer bear it

I hope you savour

Every bite.

I kneaded myself into the dough,

Pressed my palms until they bled,

Fed the oven with my hours,

My hollow mornings,

Sleepless thread.

The crust is golden - isn’t it?

The kind of gold that

costs a life.

Come, break it open at the table,

Don’t mind the salt.

That’s just the strife.

I rose the way bread rises -

Swollen, desperate, full of air,

Then collapsed beneath the heat of it,

And still I called the whole thing care.

So eat. Don’t let it go to waste.

I made it beautiful for you.

I ground myself down to the grain

So you could taste

something true.