Jon Tobias
Jon Tobias
Aug 7, 2011

These are the angels of bread

They fill my guts like cotton just thick enough

To hide the rumble of my hunger

They find their ways into the empty spots that you made when you

Stopped talking to me

They soften the longing

Their crusts just crunchy enough to substantiate

The desire for the texture that’s somehow gone missing

They get stuck in my throat so that it sounds like smoke

When I speak

Soft enough to remind me not to place so much anger in my words

Speak softly

So the world listens carefully

So when it finally speaks back

It is soft too

Like the angels of bread

They rise slowly from pools of fungus and warm water

They give life from things as simple as flour and heat

And patience

It takes patience to bake bread

It takes that same kind of patience to want to be around me

Catch me at the wrong temperature and I don’t mold so easily

So go ahead and give up on me

These are the angels of bread

Who tease our hunger

With the smell of something good

And always manage to come through

When I was little

I slathered them in peanut butter and jelly

They satiate my soul

Like the idea of Georgia

It’s a place I’ve never been

But it always sounds like home

These are the angels of bread

Kind enough to silence the earth so

All I hear is the click of my jaw when they hold me

Working out the memories you left behind

Couldn’t pack up everything when you left

You had to leave me those

And this recipe leaving my home smellin’ like a bakery

Only now it smells like Georgia

A place I’ve never been

A place that reminds me of you

Home

 
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