you walked into my dream,

and breathed your words

into the hollow of my heart,

 saying, “Bread…woman…bread.”



scent of almonds

and rum,

flecks of flour


in a sunbeam.


olive skinned men

with oiled hair,

garbed in white,

punch the dough

and slap it down.



in the shape

of a half moon,


the magic

of black beads.


you and I,

ripe reeds


our dreams

to the sky.


i will bloom

beside you in being,

and go down with you in death

to be reborn as earth.


it is not the kneading

or the kneeling

that brings my heart to life,

but words

stirring my depths

carried on the whisper

of your breath.


and you said,

“Bread… woman…bread.”


© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Photo: Flour and Hands

25 thoughts on “Bread

    1. I suppose it is. Storgia, philia, agape, and eros combined (C.S. Lewis)…the totality of the universe mirrored in the human capacity for loving expression. That is the meaning of Genesis…Adam and Eve…communion, the bread of life. True power is relational and generative on many levels. Wow…your comment truly inspired! Bless you!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. When I was about three years old, I watched Italian bakers kneading bread and preparing rum cake. Sun was streaming through the windows and the flecks of flour were spinning. The owner knew my grandmother and she always had a mezza luna cookie for me. The smell of sugar, bread cooking, and almonds was the best fragrance in the world! I hope you are doing well Elaine.

      Liked by 2 people

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