Instructions:

1. Let the knife carve along the ribs of the carcass

1. etch every groove into your mind

2. along the compacted curves of your cerebellum

1. following a winding road 

2. leading into the mist

1. a missed home.

2. Let the spatula press firmly against your tongue, massage the forgetfulness from your tastebuds

3. Let your hands knead the dough

1. palms sink into your lobes, lines, folds

2. tell a story of love

3. of longevity

1. of a red thread tightly wound against the brain.

4. Let the dough rise like the prideful puffing of the chest with passion fruit embers lying in the hearth of the bellies. 

5. Bask in the heat of the second womb, the oven of incubation that you create for yourself 

6. because you understand

7. that a recipe need not ingredients

1. when it was you all along.