How It All Works

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HOW IT ALL WORKS


It was not quite a tray of brownies

or a casserole, but what it was 


was layered and laid out in front

of me like cornbread, or a sheet cake. 


And then, as if it had been over-

baked, the base began to break 


apart, jagged edges drifting apart   

and busting through the boundary


of the pan like Pangea.

I’m not asking you to understand, 


but I knew in the way a dreamer knows 

that what was here before me 


was indivisible: bedrock covered

by the Bermuda, hardwood beneath


the vinyl floor, and more—when 

I picked it up to find it edible—


that the dish was dense, rich, 

and a remarkably simple recipe 


with just a few key ingredients 

for which I'd spend the rest of my life


mapping the waking words.


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