An Excerpt from Carrie Close’s WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Air

is the source from which all else comes alive

like the yeast foaming and rising and bubbling

in the warm water and molasses, that sweet

dark syrup — sticky like sex on your skin — when

the twin loaves come steaming out of the oven

you think of Christ, and say, “Take, eat; this is

my body,” presenting the bread, still warm from

the oven, to the apparition before you, and he takes

with his hands, and his mouth, hungry — groping

and gnawing, and it feels so good, even the guilt

to be devoured — the living yeast foaming and rising

and bubbling — Take, eat; this is my body — bubbling

in the warm, wanting only to be consumed, dripping

sweet, dark molasses, and the apparition is nearly

solid, as he tells you how good your bread tastes

and you thank him, with regret that he isn’t real

that tomorrow your fingers will grope for him in

the early dawn — when the birds are singing sweetly

to one another, outside your window, through

condensation — hung in a half moon — and they

will close into fists, around nothing but air.

You can read more of Close’s book by ordering a copy from the publisher or wherever you love to buy books.

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