The Lord said, “When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.” ( Exodus 33 )
She stands with her hand on the door,
the lines on her skin scaled with flour dust
in patterns of hard toil. I plead with her to come,
sit across the table, chat as she kneads the dough.
She walks past me without locking eyes,
a trail of jasmine flowers on scrubbed floor
from her hair styled with fragrant oil. Space
between us is hallowed by her silence. I feel her
in the smell of freshly baked bread sitting on
my counter warm and crumbly in my fingers.