Bread

Each face in the street is a slice of bread
wandering on
searchingsomewhere in the light the true hunger
appears to be passing them by
they clutchhave they forgotten the pale caves
they dreamed of hiding in
their own caves
full of the waiting of their footprints
hung with the hollow marks of their groping
full of their sleep and their hidinghave they forgotten the ragged tunnels
they dreamed of following in out of the light
to hear step after stepthe heart of bread
to be sustained by its dark breath
and emergeto find themselves alone
before a wheat field
raising its radiance to the moon