Soft Serve

by Will Shade

Smooth slope-topped plateaus

Turn liquid as latex,

With ridgelines of pearls

That separate and run

At the rigidly textured

Patterned wafercone.

Edible scepter,

Its liquefying cap

Is strictly temporary

And mostly artificial,

A cloud-chasing-thunderstorm white

Like fresh ream freed from shrinkwrap

Or empty subway corridor.

Some advocate for the purer

Pleasures of summer,

But to me these additives

Make claims on old loyalties,

Its twirls are synthetic

And glorious.