tar-colored charred


Photo by Mishaal Zahed on Unsplash

the tar-colored charred brioche

leaps from the toaster the way

frogs sprang from lily pads

in fairytales

lemon water in hand

i reach for the tongs

spraining my ankle

along the way

my foot like a reprimand

i wonder how toads land

as i respond in awe of

how they never fall

into ponds

but then as i yawned

upon me it dawned

that nothing with

a heartbeat is


i reach for the bread

between slabs of radiant heat

and recognize

no matter our blunders

we are all valuable; there is never a

need to compare nor compete