All that's needed
is a little water and oil
for whatever is in me
to yeast and massage
the flour of myself into dough.
I stretch and flatten this mixture
with my hands and sometimes
I fist it a thump. Gradually
with little blips and gulps
it begins to breathe like a creature
enlarging under my fingers
as if a something Other
materialises so that when I bake it
into firmness and give it to you
what I don't say is
It feels like you’re eating my heart.
Rebecca Gethin has written five poetry publications and has been a Hawthornden Fellow and a Poetry School tutor. Messages was a winner in the first Coast to Coast to Coast pamphlet competition. Her new book Vanishings has just been published by Palewell Press. She blogs at http://rebeccagethin.wordpress.com.
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