"Baked Goods" by Robert Beveridge
A few drops of almond extract
are often enough. A swirl
of maple syrup can mimic
the dark circles under the yes,
marzipan the perfect texture
for abrasions. It’s been a long
day at the playground, the oven,
the lawyer’s office. How many
days we do the same thing,
how many days the result is
stubborn in its resolve to be
the same as last time and the time
before that and the time before that.
Blood is simple but a contusion
is the work of a true artist
unless you cheat with real meat.
No one, however, expects to bite
into a muffin and find the taste
of Delmonico. You can fake it
with that tequila sunrise over
the mountains gradient
or you can go for the gut, the black
and blue that speaks of skill,
depth, experience, like discovering
the body of your much older lover
in the square at dawn, a suicide.
You numb the pain with flour,
baking soda, a pinch of grave
dust and a pinch of aminos.
Add just enough cocoa powder
and just enough powdered
anise, and then beat until
the color reflects the skin
just below your ribs. You’ll know
when it is ready for all the things
that taste of almond.
Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, Ohio. Recent / forthcoming appearances in The Nixes Mate Review, Violet Rising, and The Road Less Travelled, among others.
Photo Credit: Staff