Breaditations

I. MEASURE; MIX

two cups of lukewarm water
                        the temperature of our beating hearts
two and a half teaspoons yeast
                        dropped without warning
one teaspoon of sea salt
                        since we could not cry for fear
a quarter cup of oil
                        we learned to count it out

one cup of wheat flour
                        fourteen days self-isolation
two cups of wheat flour
                        sudden rising unemployment
three cups of wheat flour
                        countries closing borders
four cups of wheat flour
                        all those days inside the house
five cups of wheat flour
                        hospital capacity and ICU beds
one last half-cup for good measure
                        untested, infected, transmitted, dead

my hands are sticky with dough
                        their throats were choked with tubes
my hands are sticky with dough
                        the crematoria ran day and night
my hands are sticky with dough
                        we were not prepared for this
my hands are sticky with dough
                        mercy, lord, have mercy on us

II. KNEAD

We read the news from Wuhan, from Italy,
tuned in faithfully to Angela, Boris, Donald, Justin,

while the county health units counted bodies.
We learned what the bakers have always known

about rough handling, the imputation of strength,
how the dough only becomes resilient

after it goes through a painful surrender.
The news pummeled us with statistics and warnings.

We learned to absorb the shuddering blows
as our souls became windowpane-thin.

III. RISE

Wear your mask
out on the street.

Beware the leaven
of the Pharisees.

Activate, foment,
incubate, rise.

Rise up, rise
up—

Uprise.

IV. BAKE

What the bread gave us back was time:
carte-blanche permission to stop, to rest,
to relish the impossibility of rush or hurry.
We could spend our minutes kneading dough,
shaping loaves, carefully feeding a starter
we had given an improbable name.
We sat on kitchen floors and waited
while it rose, waited while it baked,
while it cooled, letting the time run out
between our fingers like sand.