by Alice Harper
dusted off,
moulded dreams.
frosted hope in
heated hands
there's nothing worse
than
too late
folded neatly,
soft and light.
packaged joy in
engendered colour
once wedding cake
under pillows.
now fluffy frosting
on squashed defeat
time will slip
down to greasy floors
only to miss
your miniature map
there's nothing worse
than
the baby thrown
out
with the bake tray
every year
scrape the sides
it can wait
it will rest
fertile hope left raw
but
cupcake footprint
set.
There's nothing worse
than
encased
in paper liner
encapsulated
forever
there's nothing worse
than never
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Has anyone else noticed the correlation between cupcake sales going up, and women having babies going down?
Thanks to Charles Bukowski for 'there's nothing worse than too late'
I like this poem, but I do not like cupcakes, so I have not noticed sales going up.
favorite lines:..."fluffy frosting on squashed defeat"
"the baby thrown out with the bake tray"
bukowski & cupcakes is a thought i am happy to have today, thanks--delicious.
Alex, this is fine work. I would skip the double spacing, just a suggestion. the correlations here are magnificent. "every year scrape the sides" cake pan and uterus, really good work.
well you manage to take a frothy light desert and turn it into a longer lasting, more fulfiling devil's food for the reader.