Angel Food Cake

It’s summer solstice, and I am going to bake a cake.
Not just any cake.
Angel food cake.
It’s a finicky cake to make,
But this year, I swear, I am learning how to bake.

There are 13 egg whites
You don’t grease the pan
A dozen tiny steps that I must carefully take
If I’m going to bake this cake.

I sift in sugar and flour and salt
Blast it in the food processor beyond recognition
Into a thousand bits it breaks
Until I see only wisps of what I hope becomes a cake

And just when I’m beginning to ask
Was this a good idea?
Egg whites magically don’t break
The mixture lifts into the fluffy white clouds I intended to make

And all I can think is I wish my body would do the same

Is it really so different than ingredients put into a cake?
Perhaps there’s a little more at stake,
But it’s not so complicated this thing I’m trying to make

But somehow each time, I make a mistake
It hurts and I bleed and everything aches
As I trip over 40 tiny steps I need to take

So I chop up strawberries
And I whip the whipping cream
Because I need to do something that no one can take

Tonight while I lie awake
I’ll crack and I’ll cry and I’ll scream and I’ll shake
But right now, I am baking a cake.