permission foods for gone boys

i'd like to i'd like to
from the table of candied
rain. putting on makeup
in the rear view mirror. this isn't
my car. i am not present 
but moreso pretending to be
a mouth. the spoons all have
ablackhole where the swallow should be.
i ask god if i'm allowed
to enjoy a buttery thumb
& he says i have not worked hard 
enough to earn that kind
of release. all the boys 
climb into the oven & come out
as fists. golden brown. have 
a fork twisting a wad of hair.
master sets out a bowl of water.
sitting in the hole of a donut
waiting for the sound 
of a whistle. i try to be
indulgent & by that i mean
i try to eat cherry tomatoes 
in halves. hot springs or hale storms.
never the less, i can't be trusted
with hunger & a doorway. i lock
my face in a lead box. 
become bullet proof for the sake
of cherry pits. open wide 
while you free my tongue.
pairing knife. a colony of 
electric taste. i press my palms
to my eyes. open wide as 
the dark. hear the sound of sweetness.
the baker's secret heart.
monkey bread. every one 
is taking pieces. i sacrifice 
a blue morning. but it is still
not quite enough.