Thursday, July 5, 2012

Baking in a Heat Wave


With two hours before sunrise
The last baker enters the break room
Joining a crew, soaked and faded
Their shift hasn’t started

Condensation on windows
And Gatorade puddles
Serve as warnings
That this won’t be a day for talking

In silence they wait
Listening to the compressors
Wheezing for air, on the other side
Of the Oven Rooms door

Each considers leaving
But fears being the first
To turn tail
While their brothers face the dragon

Only years later will they realize
Why they had to carry on
It wasn’t for themselves
But each other

1 comment:

  1. this is about baking, but it could be about so much else.