Map Book.

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

The bread-making conceit in the opening stanza is the poem's strongest move. "Kneaded dough" and "last prove" bring texture and time together convincingly, and "translucent, good to go" lands with quiet confidence — the double meaning of prove (proofing dough, proving a route) does real work without calling attention to itself.

The second stanza loses some of that precision. "Can neither sit nor stand / thats neither bent nor true" feels like it is reaching for wordplay that does not quite close: the logic of the negatives becomes slightly tangled, and the missing apostrophe in "thats" reads as an error rather than a choice. It may be worth deciding whether the stanza is pursuing a physical description of the broken spine or a metaphor for something more — at present it hovers between the two without committing. The final stanza recovers well with "a web of nerves," which earns its comparison, though "brings me back to words" as a closing line asks to carry more weight than the poem has yet built toward it. Since the map is a book, the return to words feels potentially meaningful, but a small amount of additional grounding — some earlier thread connecting maps to language or reading — would let that ending resonate rather than simply arrive.

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 could be: A back that's bent... untrue.

After rereading the last stanza a couple of times, I finally caught the exasperation of the whole thing and turned back to start again. ~ Geezer.