Words Like Bread

On NPR poet Kwame Alexander asked for people to write a poem about the pandemic lockdown starting with the line “Still, I rise” from which he would compile a crowdsourced poem. My submission was not used for the final product, but I like what I wrote.

Still, I rise.

Even if my bread did not.

The bread the Internet said everyone was making.

My neighbor gave me a mother she had mothered,

But this mother learned

she did not have

the patience

or energy

to care for

one

more

living

thing.

(No, we will not get a puppy. Stop asking.)

No fresh sourdough, but

family and

board games and

sketchbooks and

notebooks.

Shut in, shut off, shut down.

Still, I was fed.

Ideas bubbling in my head like yeast.