I take a piece of butter bread
and spread it thick with butter again
and also honey — not thick with it
but thick enough — and turn it loose
upon my tongue where it stops
me for a minute, less really
unless I close my eyes after a bite
and think: is this enough?
Is this enough to stop hunger,
end war, give me peace and allow me
to harmonize with silence for one moment
after, until I take another bite?

It isn’t. So I take
another bite, feel honey
in my beard-hairs, chew slowly
around butter — a big chunk
if you can call it a chunk when
it is so soft and when bread
melds swiftly to it until
they are one —

and I close
my eyes, alone again
for a second time this morning
when it is morning here,
night elsewhere, cusp of a day
when anything could happen,
even a piece of butter bread
coming together with honey
and extraneous butter until
you close your eyes one final time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T