The Throat of Baal Haamesh

When I braid brains
It's like challah bread
If you don't pronounce challah
From the throat
You don't know challah

Not trying to be elitist
But I don't make molé
Not because I can't
But because I have no business

I braid brains
That's what I make
Braided brains
To eat or to use as a cushion
The comfiest things
In your belly or under your bottom

Of all the things I've ever tried to make
successfully
Braided brains take cake
I tried my hands at bowed beef tongue
I tried my luck with untucked flounder tails
I even tried my lunch as a Versailles hambone sidewalk cart
All failures
Leading me
To this place

When I look at neckties
I see the inside as a two-tonged braid

When I look at buckles
I see a loop that wants to braid

When the brains see me
They run for cover
For all land mammals know
I come for heads
Even the deep sea creatures know
I have mean mean business

Seat covers
Revolver holsters
Stools and lookout towers
All prefer braided brains
As do their cohabitants
Bugs, mice and people
Even dust specks like B.B.

If you get your fingers in deep enough
Or a knitting needle or a hookworm
You can almost convince yourself
That you know about challah
You can almost unbraid it
In your mind

But those soft swirls of dough
Just flour, egg, sugar, salt, water, yeast and special braiding ingredients
Those curls
Once formed
Are no longer not challah
You laugh!
But it's the truth

There is no other vendor that will buy back half eaten products
So much so do I stand behind
How upright must I be upon the ground?
What firmness do you wish to challenge?

When it comes to the virtues of mincing
I am not your vendor
But when it comes to braiding brains
You have found your flailing profiteer
Your faulty but functional representative
One who makes it seem right
And fair
Traditional and distinct
--
1.7.13

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