Breadwinner

The dough expands effortlessly across the carpet.

The cat is consumed. The dog is half way there.

My throw pillows don't even feel this good.

Take it or leave it, the dough is here to stay.

In a few days it will turn to crust.

In a few years, possibly mold.

The house will never recuperate.

The dough wraps around my recliner,

my husbands toupee, and his bowling shoes.

Thank god those are gone. They smelled like cheese.

The faucets running. How does dough turn on a faucet.

Soon the windows will be gone and the neighbors will dial their phones.

The police will arrive and I'll say

"Just a little too much yeast!" and smile.

They'll think and I'll know.

Was I baking bread

or was I baking a new home in the Bahamas?