we could be cake

with a fork in my mouth,
you plant buttercream roses
behind my ears. i have never been
as hungry as i am now.
wake up in the middle of the chocolate dark
with anxiety. 
we go around the house trying
to determine what is real
& what is cake. the television
or the crickets. the sofa, a great
sponge cake we have been missing out on.
the fridge could be cake too.
angel food bathtub. i do not want
to try my luck. lately i have been
unsure if it is better to take a bite
or better to move around the world
pretending like there aren't cakes
just lurking in plain sight. 
it might be best to meet them
as they arrive. once i guessed wrong
& i chomped down into a wine glass.
for a long time i thought i could
tell the difference. i thought there were
always signs. then, i met a few cakes
i still cannot believe. you tell me,
"there is no such thing as cake"
even as you make me a mouse
out of marzipan. i take all the mirrors
off the walls & eat them. you are not happy
but i have to keep us safe. the cake
has to come from somewhere.
a baker on the other side
of a phone call. you hold my hands
in yours. you say, "i am hungry too."
i weep because i don't believe 
you feel the same as i do but maybe
that is a failure of my imagination.
maybe i have found too many cakes.
i wonder if we are both 
full of cream cheese frosting. 
red velvet in our throats. 
here is my serving spoon.
i do not want to be shared.