1. Do not pull the rising dough over you at midnight.
2. Deny yourself everything good, decent in life, the rise of a chest when it’s put in a warm place.
3. When you walk by the bakery, break the handcuffs out. Steel yourself.
4. Avoid binding agents. Friendships. Civic organizations. Scotch tape.
5. Substitute sorghum for wheat. Guar gum for kindness. Tapioca for taste, sincerity, civility.
6. Take your meals alone. Only order foods you can’t share.
7. Do not follow breadcrumbs, the ancient rituals we use to find our way home.
8. Be wary of what’s broken, shelled, crushed, or sieved—the particles that make up dreams.
9. Do not find yourself naked inside a morning bun.
10. Do not drive to the store, storm aisle 23 and pile everything gluten-free in a mound. Do not pour gasoline. Do not strike a chord. Do not lay the flaming sunrise on your tongue.
11. Whatever you do, do not wonder if we are praying to the wrong gods.
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Carly Marie DeMento is a poet and writer for climate-change startups living in Encinitas, California. Her poetry has appeared in the North American Review, Kestrel, and Green Hills Literary Lantern. A 2023 finalist for the James Hearst Poetry Prize, her work has been supported by Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference.