15 of 30, 2016

Sonnet: A Man Buying Bread Senses the Universe in Which He Fights Saucermen, and Vice-Versa

Something heavy about this baguette,

a density too queer to be made.

I trust the baker measured water, weighed

the live and active yeast, and yet

someone here has smoked a cigarette

to make the memory of bread fade.

Before an improvised parade,

He binds an improvised bayonet

Of a kitchen knife to my seething rifle.

Something odd in its heft and girth,

downy and calm. They say life will

comfort fated minds. Guess I’ll know its worth

when we light up the sky beside what was the Eiffel

Tower, beneath what was the moon of Earth.

from a prompt by Shannon Hardwick