cake batter Poem, by anemoia, at My poetic side

sickeningly sweet

you can already taste knuckle

the oven isn’t yet preheated

there’s already a fist in your jaw

primitave, bent over two bowls

first glass, then porcelain

both bring a terrible delight

both leave a knife to the gut

things come in waves

choke on batter before blood

people can kneel before crosses

you kneel over the bowl

you claim it makes you just as pure

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