People have to be a little battered
ere they knead into dough.
Are we not easily mixed
do not stir hard enough
unwilling to lose our rough edges
become a pithless porridge?
Solid forms crumble
the cookie cutters hang in the Christmas tree.
Don’t turn into a clod
stuffed with botched baking on a clammy family weekend.
How sweet to lick the whisk clean
such smooth batter without the lumps.
Translation: Trevor Scarse