Coeur De Pâtissière

My heart is like dough,
Kneaded in my lover’s palm;
She accentuates rough circles,
Pastry blended from milk,
Flour, and eggs from a creel
Usually used for mackerel.
It seems unreal sometimes,
The whims of her patterns
Trimmed with a wheel,
The serrating circularity
Of steel brings its own
Clarity as the arteries
Are filled with peaches,
Mango custard on weekends,
Pink lady in the week;
Toppings are dessications.
In a shop window, a daily
Celebration of my Pâtissière’s
Abundant, unending art.

There’s a price tag beside
The final baked product,
For it’s likely to crumble
If left uncared for,
And if dropped to the floor
Things fall apart.

One thought on “Coeur De Pâtissière

  1. I love the sensuality of this poem and the way you compared a heart to dough in the lover’s palm… No doubt, baking for someone you love is a very intimate gesture, which requires determination and care. The “abundant, unending art” of your poetry never ceases to amaze me!

    Liked by 1 person

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