cut through a vast vat of rising dough
1 min readOct 27, 2017
Cut through a vast vat of rising dough
And it swallows the knife, your hand, your arm
Rolls over your head and torso like low
Organ notes and seals behind in mellow
Lipid folds falling closed to smother alarm.
Quilts at home summon the sensation when
Used warm and fresh from the dryer. We throw
Idle furls through the air which roll and bend
Round the head, wrists and feet. Then, quilts flatten
Keeping close to breathing skin. When they grow
Earthly stale, the wash can bare them again.
An acrostic
For background on the poems I’ve published on Medium see “about these poems”.
