Poetica Magazine

We were asked, amidst this shrinking and expanding world,
of our staple; it is bread.

A noun leavened with metaphors that it chokes imagination
thus becoming a phenomenon. Paris calls it Pain.
It has followed the harvest of civilization as the yeasty dough that it is
it is what it is if you just say the name
like man to the floor, it answers to all flour

Until I piped into the many stories across the seas
then I saw the staple is us
chased by the sun
found at the waters
subduing greenland

We who are most complex
are yet simply the one
rising above the yeast of chaos