Self-Portrait From Disaster


Mostly blurs of grays and gray-blues:

An auction table covered in cakes and numbers

Numbers and cakes barred behind their numbers,

hardly breathing through fondant girdles

Somewhere near the end of the table

one cake, untaken, even though it is dressed

The baker had envisioned it to furnish some wedding with honeysuckle white

blossoms, the sugar-snow tiers of cloud-blush layers like a mountain spire

with no crown.

In spite of all his sweat there are no takers

No wedding suitable today for white on white on white

The brides all preferred Splenda in their frosting.

The unclaimed cake baubles, no, quakes under the midday heat

Bubbles travel to the frosted face to mouth slow oh’s, icing buttresses, then streams

A moat of travesty confined to the overburdened plate

Where the uncalled-for cake splatters

fatter and fatter

Blinded, choking in its own buttered excess.


Image credit:

By Roozitaa – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,


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