Glazed Frappucino Stew

Mocha never tasted
so much liked chestnut.

The coffee cream caramels,
candies.

The cast-iron pot
boils the chocolate coasters
of cherry candles, hints of

cumin, minted dances crusting
inside the rusted custard,

a Bailey-tasted ale.

I’m in the kitchen again,
looking for the familiar,
lush inebriety.

Chopping board of lost
pieces. Amnesic cup,
same sin, named differently:

Crocked chicken, sloshed
in the crockpot.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s