a study in futility: the dough that never ends (poem)

Before you read the poem, here’s why I wrote it:
A few days ago I decided to bake some meat pastries for the last day of Ramadan (fasting month for Muslims) and because my brother’s family would be joining us, I decided to make a bigger dough, added a few extra cups of flour, a few extra spoons of yeast. When I returned to check on the dough after I let it rise, I realized the meat wouldn’t be enough, so I took out the chicken breasts, diced them into little, smallish squares, cooked them with onion, garlic and some seasoning.
I began taking small portions from the dough, making little balls and placing them on a floured platter that I’d later roll and fill with meat/chicken. But evry time I was done with the 20 some balls I had made, I’d return to the bowl and find that the dough had risen anew and filled up the bowl yet again. At the end, I had to shred cheese to fill the remaining dough.
The poem below is dedicated to that stubborn dough that refused to end.

Once I decided to bake
Pastries to break the fast
Never would I have guessed
This dough would never end
The meat I seasoned into fragrance
The chicken I diced into squares
But never did I guess
This dough would never end
The yeast I used of plenty
The olive as virgin as Mary
But never did I guess
This dough would never end
Roll I did, once and twice
Filled in the meat, the chicken thrice
Added cheese and some spice
But never would I have guessed
This dough would never end
I took from the dough again
Rolled and leveled until it evened
Still cheerful I filled and filled
But never would I have guessed
This dough would never end
And on and on the platter grew
Until a mountain peaked through
And roll and level did I do
But stubborn dough grew anew
Never would have I guessed
This dough would never end
Murderous I took the entire dough
And in one piece I decided to roll
Meat and chicken together I dumped
And formed one single massive ball
Never would I have guessed it could
Grow and grow but grow it would
This evil ball of dough
That built and grew anew
Because the yeast had been too plentiful
And in the oven it couldn’t go

Jina S. Bazzar

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