orange_leaves.png

1 poem
by
Bob Sykora

Bob Sykora is the author of the chapbook I Was Talking About Love–You Are Talking About Geography (Nostrovia! 2016). A graduate of the UMass Boston MFA program, he teaches at community college and co-hosts The Line Break podcast.  He can be found online at bobsykora.com and @Bob_Sykora_.

Crying on the Exercise Bike While Watching The Great British Bakeoff, February 2021

It is two in the afternoon and I love you.

It’s true, it’s two in the afternoon

and the entire room is blurry

with sunlight, with fresh tears.

The cake turned out poorly.

Someone is going home. The layers

crumbled. I love you

and all your layers.

Crumbling, overcooked.

I pedal faster and get nowhere.

Crumbling. Overcooked. Crying,

I don’t know why I’m crying

You’re crying because you lost,

because you’re going home.

Because next week your baking

won’t be judged. Because the cake

was perfect when you practiced.

Because. I pedal faster. I am no

closer to you. My body is soft,

full of cake. I ride my exercise bike

because I hate my body. I watch

reality tv because I hate working out.

There’s no cake in the evening.

I love you, even when there’s no cake

after the long day. Crumbling.

Overcooked. My body is blurry

at two in the afternoon. I pedal faster.

I pedal nowhere. I don’t know why

I’m crying. Overcooked. Pedal.

Blurry body. My body was perfect

when I practiced. I pedal faster.

My cake is blurry. The sun

fills the room. The room crumbled.

There is no cake in the evening

after the long day. My body

pedals faster. The day is further

away. It’s two in the afternoon.

I don’t know why I’m crying.

You are not coming home.