How It All Works

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.