Title: Push and Pull (SHORT VERSION)
Sometimes I feel like pastry,
sometimes like dough.
Rolled, pushed, pulled,
kneaded, stretched,
rolled again.
Shaped, cupped, chopped,
needed — or not needed.
I rise like bread,
proof or no proof,
too much, too little,
left too long,
pulled too soon.
Hit me with the rolling pin,
leave me in the cupboard,
let me sour
if the mix isn’t right.
Pricked, forked,
undercooked, overcooked,
flattened, stretched,
too sweet, too salty.
This is the push and pull,
the manipulation,
the kneading of pastry,
of bread, of cake mix —
the flow never quite right.

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