Woman on the Baking Mix Box


Inflections waft from scissored pie nerves steam curling
profoundly where she buried her apple tirade
thumb ribbed on slope screwing circles for peel
unbroken

Setting out pocket masterpieces
diced cloying juices
the froth pungent
her beached expression a spooky natural

This is the woman who bakes only colors from Arabia
Hibiscus crisped in ruffle crust
Spoon hip-holstered in the ordinary hopelessness
sterile glitter sanctioned:

the libation’s in the sink.