Musings #5


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

sweet water.

The old woman’s hair turns white,

falls out. Let me be sweet. Let sugar

unclench me.

Glitter smile.

Let sweetness run amok,

pour down our throats. Let it rot teeth.

We shall all be toothless –

innocents with no bite.