by Cati Porter

Osculum conspiratio; I bring you my breath, my lips.
I take the bowl from the cupboard, hands cupping the bowl.
I take the egg from cold storage and break the shell,
A pool of clear and a smooth yellow disc;

My fingers tangle the two together, a filmy swirl.
Basium; my mouth presses against my own hand to remember.
And then I scoop the flour white with unbecoming and mound the bowl.
And then I scoop the sugar that sparkles like glass ground fine.

And then I salt the bowl. And I then lift
The three spotted yellow softened fruits, peel and break.
Savium; with what intention does your mouth meet mine.
The lilting of their falling upon the mound,

My hands kneading them thick and smooth,
Bringing them and the flour and the sugar with the egg to the edge.
Between the batter and the bread lies this.
Between knowing and believing, your kiss.

Cati Porter is the author of Seven Floors Up (Mayapple Press, 2008), as well as several chapbooks, most recently The Way Things Move The Dark (Dancing Girl Press, 2013). She is founder and editor of Poemeleon: A Journal of Poetry and Inlandia: A Literary Journey and Executive Director of the Inlandia Institute.