No cloud of flour, sting of salt.
Crystals spilling out of sky’s jar
everywhere – on counters, the floor,
in trees and in the sea.
In the kitchen window, look –
the ghost of my mother eyeing
her confections and trifles.
Fill bellies with her sweets.
One by one, the snowflakes touch
and go melting, streaming
down glass. This ocean is
The old woman’s hair turns white,
falls out. Let me be sweet. Let sugar
Let sweetness run amok,
pour down our throats. Let it rot teeth.
We shall all be toothless –
innocents with no bite.