Kneed (A Family Recipe)
Body: A pendulum. Hung to a hook no closer to the earth to find solid footing.
Dough: A secondary flesh, soft and humble takes a breath.
Body: Worn and frayed stuck between the hollow framework, still weaning.
Dough: Grain and water, I will self-sustain, you only a catalyst of a cradle.
Body: I tend to the mass of muscle that separates my own.
Dough: Growing, raising, SNAG.
Body: Enveloped. Each motion a burden, a tumorous womb- like I bear.
Dough: Hold me, sustain me, only me.
Body: “Hopeless”, “unequipped”, “unprepared” and knowingly naive.
Dough: Stagnant and grasping at the strings, desperate and estranged.
Body: As time’s relentless contracted waves, my vigor decayed.
Dough: The promise of sustenance, a tender embrace, to mend this vessel, to find a space.
Body: A limp body sways.
Dough: Clinging.