only a slice, a poem

take me in your hands and pull me apart

like soft chunks of bread

my crumbs spilling to the floor


i am a giver

with fresh loaves new from

the oven of my love


i present to you

with salted butter and dollops of jam

wrapped neatly in my cloths of white linen

in your outstretched hands


but you didn’t want a loaf

neither the baguette or buns i sculpted

you wanted only a slice

with nothing but the glass of your wine

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