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Poetry Collab: Bread

Hello Poetteers,

After a #PoetteerChat about food and poetry, I had the pleasure to collaborate on a poem with Charlotte Hamrick.

The Well Worked Globe

Bread is a part of every meal
and Monday mornings
were for bread-making.

My five-year-old self
would sit at the big, worn
kitchen table and watch
Grandma's hands
as they expertly kneaded
and rolled the dough, grabbing
the edge, folding it to the center,
then pushing it down
with the heels of her palms,
gradually turning the pale round
disc until all edges met
in the middle, over and over,
her fingers flexing, arms relentlessly
churning like waves on a shore.

I'd watch as she chatted
and sometimes sang,
a merry-go-round of domesticity,
a goddess of the kitchen,
until time to rest the well-worked
globe in a bowl in the corner.

Later, the whole house
was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread
we sat around the dining room table
I tore off a piece of pita to dip in hummus
as we waited for the main course
on the flip-side
I tore off a piece of flatbread
to scoop up some curry

Bread owns no culture,
yet belongs to every culture.
A staple of life,
bread is universal.

by Fida & Charlotte

Thank you for reading! 

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