unhappiness is what you knead

Unhappiness is what you knead  
Like dough
It's what you breed  
You sew  
A stitch of stampede  
And poppy seed  
(I wound myself  
I make me bleed)
Stirred at daybreak  
To tend that tired elasticity  
Stirred by heart ache  
and fruit cakes  
And the simplistic toxicity  
Of a woman who wakes  
To wrestle bread's embryo  
Alone to consider
Ratio and oven glow  
Alone to hold that breathing blob
And its pulsating throb  
Alone enough to know  
Unhappiness and its hues of  
Wheat and rye and indigo