pie lattices for an abandoned life 

i folded our escape ladder 
from dough. all the bakers 
were smoking on their porches 
& dreaming of their mothers.
an oven is not a destination,
it is a tongue. an airport. 
strip malls & diners flicker there.
wooden knuckles. laying hand
over hand over hand. i used to
capture doves to sell them
to the moon for their paleness.
bird eyes in a bowl alongside jewels.
haven't you ever bitten into 
a piece of cake & found
the baby? right there with his face
a cathedral? where we lived
there were bars on the windows.
security systems with names like
"haven" & "vigil." don't you remember
how i would hold your hand 
& feed you blueberries 
until you were sick? no?
or was that another lover?
it is a shame to lose track
of your own skin. i want someone
to love me enough to weave 
a blanket. once, my mother made one
& i lost it in a fit of yolks.
what i am trying to say is 
there wasn't enough rhubarb
or strawberries or peaches.
there wasn't enough blueberries 
or apples. we had to eat 
one another. the bakers are
still smoking on their porches.
bells ring to signal the death
of another day. nothing is lattice 
at least not tonight. 
i kiss you only when 
you are not looking & you
do the same to me.

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