he knew it wasn’t actually the body of Christ
(since the ingredients were plain enough:
flour, water, and salt)
but still, he liked to make it
the measures almost memorized
the motions, rote
(except for the increasing ache
in his aged wrists)
again and again and again, a silent prayer
for the people who would gather
in the morning
the body of Christ
the timing was the secret:
the loaves in the oven
would need exactly as long to bake
as the ones on the counter to prepare
the secret was this:
just keep going
Posted in: NaPoWriMo