Bread & Clay

By: Josiah Patterson Wheatley

Hands smeared

red under fingernails

the studio window

a sigh & sight

of birds in the background

scolding.

Feel the cold heaviness

of earth, malleable

tender as meat.

Wet upon the spinning wheel

by thin hands

pressed & shaped

diaspora of clay.

The trickling light

feeds the colors, bruised to beige

into tools for hungry lips.

Across the field hands

cracked & calloused

flick the sickle

shave the flax like hair

from their heads

a thousand bundled stalks

folded braids of gold.

Kexy chaff remains to feed the crow

or abandoned to decay.

Firm hands to grind

to mill, to sift 

knead as if anger

could be expelled from skin.

The yeast to feed

the miracle rise

& heat to crust, then glow

under a buttered knife.

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Born and raised in Montana, Josiah Patterson Wheatley has been a published writer, guardian ad litem, special education teacher, and late night bus bouncer. He possesses a BA in English from Montana State University and is pursuing an MA in Creative Writing from California State University, Sacramento. Outside of Montana, he has put down roots in many places including the Czech Republic, Florida, and most recently in California. He is a casual poet and personal essayist, whose work explores a wide field, from an appreciation of nature and science to a healthy curiosity of the supernatural