Bitter Bread Poem by Susan McMaster

You prepare a feast of bitter bread,
of acid wine and rancid flesh,
then sit me down. Now eat, you hiss,
Eat well of the wrongs that you did to me,
now chomp these chunks, now stuff them in!


I will, I say, but not alone.
Pull up a chair - it's not only I
who must gorge till I'm sick,
till the rank meal's done.


For in love, you must know,
the meat of revenge is the vengeful's bone,
the dregs of its wine the avenger's sop


And the bread that is thrust
on the one who has erred
in matters of love,
must always be shared.