learned
to wait
for the
dough to
rise we
1. Take one cup of flour and pour it over your body.
Feel the powder fill your pores, soak into your bones and
joints and liver until you calcify.
2. Take one egg, separating the whites from the yolks
from the shells. Add each part one at a time, slow and
intentional.
3. Tell her to mix it together, the flour and egg.
4. Feel your body fall away, piece by piece, when she
mixes you.
never
learned
5. Sugar in whatever form you can find—powdered,
granulated, brown, the honey that still has bits of bee
wings and legs in it.
6. Melt the butter between her lips when she says, We
don’t have much time left. When she says, I think I’m
leaving you. It is better this way.
to wait
7. It is better unsalted.
8. The softer flavor helps with the kneading, the pressing
of her hands into your sternum and hips, the end flavor.
for the dough
9. Chocolate chips, almond slivers, her favorite dried
fruits in the bag tied with twine from the farmer’s market.
Those go in last, and you feel them sink into every part
of you, filling in the gaps from that party when you
both danced with other people and fought afterwards
and decided at the end of the night, Yes, we should live
together.
to rise we
never
learned
10. Preheat the oven.
to wait
dough to