Brownies - a poem
Brownies
Like a dirt clod,
but moist.
A melted clod,
a melted clod of dirt
but sweet.
A sweet, melted clod of dirt
but not dirt.
Goodness;
rainbows;
joy;
children.
The laughter of children.
A rag soaked in the laughter of children,
and squeezed out into a bowl
with an egg cracked on top,
and the wheat of the land,
and sugar,
pure sugar.
Sweet, sweet pure sugar.
And fire.
And time.
And you consume it with your mouth.
I. Love. Brownies.