Bake at 350º Until Golden Brown

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: House of Ghosts


I wrote this like two years ago and never posted it. Anyway, I like to eat.

Submitted: April 24, 2018

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Submitted: April 24, 2018

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A taut fist to mix a liquid-sugar lake,

A roundabout made with a wooden stick to spin.

Pouring, streaming, fleet like a snake,

Creeping slowly to settle in a elliptical tin.

 

Baked yellow particles fresh to be made,

Smoothed the light snow around the base.

Quietly dropped down was the secretive braid,

Marathons of ice, gaining on the race.

 

These fine-tipped shells lay their place,

Surrounded by a frosted beach.

Connected by each dividing trace,

Topped mildly off with a slice of peach.

 


© Copyright 2018 B.S. Son. All rights reserved.