Because I had nothing my parents wanted
or could use, I sent bread--8-Grain and 3-Seed,
San Francisco Sourdough, Jewish Rye,
anything bakehouse with peasant crust.
When they tore into a loaf of Challah
and reported the saffron-colored braids
just right, I rejoiced like a mother--
not one who gives her breast to her child
but one who trusts her child's care to strangers.