Goodbye To The Bakery Poem by michael pacholski
Goodbye To The Bakery
He said he wouldn’t
be coming home for dinner
tonight or tomorrow
or any other night.
Like he did with the best of himself,
he phoned it in from his truck;
leaving her with a rising
in her belly and a rising
loaf of crisp brown bread
- a mutual recipe-
in a hot gas oven;
leaving her to raise them,
chew them up alone,
and swallow.
Friday, November 2, 2007
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4/29/2024 11:13:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
