Ode to Sourdough

I’ll start by being honest.

You don’t smell so great.

A bit like acetone, a bit like vodka.

I won’t pretend to like it.

But when I picked you up after a long hiatus –

Your smell made me nostalgic

In a beautiful, unexpected way.

 

I crave the way you look when you’re doing what you’re supposed to.

Bubbling, growing, changing, rising.

I know it’s you doing all the work;

Working out, getting buff in your Pyrex jug

But I feel proud all the same

For what we have accomplished together.

 

And when I knead you –

That is the best part by far.

I can feel you ripple under the heel of my hand like a muscle

And you stretch like elastic

And even though it’s a bit too strenuous

And even though you go flaky on my wrists and make me itch

I feel like this is the point of touch.

The point of touch is so you can feel the moments like these.

 

And it is a bit silly to write you a love poem

But I do love you

For making me believe I can own something without killing it

For making me believe I can make something by myself

It’s a team effort

And we do make a delicious team.

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