As we stand and talk about bread
The various types
That the days conditions left,
Under the light

Of the sun which peels the day
Just like the last
segments of warm clementine
And swallows the rest

The materiality of you rises
With force to greet me
Through your mouth and other pieces
Petal-blue unblinking

I feel your embrace already.
Its a nascent form
Of seers insight to a body
Sensing the dirt

My mind’s soft worm burrows in
Feeling our heat
In this brown paper bag, and then
we take short steps out