Photograph by Natalie Young
The Most Sorrowful of Creatures
the women make bread
stir flour & water
salt & yeast
the table is long
the pans new
moon white
loaves rise silent
all at once as
if breath
* * *
he thinks of
galaxies
milk
light the fullness
of a woman’s
nature
how darkness
like lovers attends
in a dream to become
* * *
how they turn
their hands
(doves!)
this how any
direction
unfolds
or rivers
in their
wake
Richard Lance Williams
Posted over on More Poetry
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