The Church Bake Sale Revolt

They said bring pies

so we brought axes

disguised as rolling pins

our aprons starched white

as surrender flags

but tied too tight

to wave properly

The committee chairwoman

(her smile frosted like lemon glaze)

takes inventory:

- Three dozen cookies

iced with passive aggression

- One carrot cake containing

the entire Book of Judith

in shredded vegetable code

- A batch of brownies

that definitely don't contain

birth control pamphlets

baked between the layers

The pastor's wife sniffs

at our meringue peaks

stiff with defiance

but still writes

$2.00 per slice

in her perfect cursive

that looks just like

the handwriting

on those anonymous checks

sent to the women's clinic

When the cash box overflows

we redistribute the wealth:

- Gas money for the college girl

visiting home this weekend

- A new lock for the shelter

downtown

- Extra sprinkles

because fuck it

we're sweet too

The church bells ring five o'clock

as we pack up

the leftover crumbs

and revolution

in equal measure

tomorrow's bulletin will read:

"Bake sale success!

(Next week: quilting

for questionable causes)"