Gluten Allergy

A woman stands transfixed
in front of a rack of warm white bread

longs to pick one up / tear off the tip / shower golden flakes
all over the supermarket floor

People pass her with rattling carts
full of croissants / bagels / baguettes / buns

and like an alcoholic who has wandered into a liquor store
she stuffs her hands deep into her pockets

They’re small animals
wriggling to get out

Just let us touch the crust, they say
feel it crackle

She doesn’t even remember the taste

and yet, the homey smell assaults her brain, the reptile part of it
that reads the world in scent

She’s embarrassed by its grip

and surprised

like the king in Cap-o’-Rushes

who only learned the weight
of plain white salt

or love
by losing it

Atma Frans’ poetry has won awards and has been published in Arc Poetry Magazine, CV2, TNQ, Obsessed with Pipework and Lighthouse Literary Journal among others. She lives on the west coast of Canada where she hikes, swims and writes. In her poetry, Atma searches for the voice beneath her personas: woman, mother, designer, trauma survivor, author.