more than enough

though i feel the points and juttings

as i toss and turn and knock about

my fingers still seek and sink into

the weighty dough

and though at times i peer at spindly

i beg the Fleischer

and promise soft to pay him dearly

and even sometimes i breathe in

and glimpse reedy

but there is no question

of how

at noon’s call

how needy

how so very, very greedy

it gets…

and though you tell me

to really see

and to see what you see

i see only me

and that

i am more than enough