The Baker

today the fire will not light:
I hear the wet logs hiss

and I smell the cigarette smoke
smell the life of the cat
smell the yeast of my rising

and wonder what fate
awaits me:  how
I will prove and bake
how he will bless and break me
had I the choice
I'd say
no more pain please

but who knows the whims
of the Gods
and their games

One Year Round The Sun
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