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Monday, May 30, 2016


Frosting on an angel cake
Orange as I remember it
that comes to me
with the simple flashes
of her complete kitchen
I don't know how many
she made over the years
two or three I seem to recall
birthdays mostly
as they were
special creations

No boxed cakes for her
always crack the eggs
to separate the yokes
for a later zabaglione
so thick to spoon
with a light flavor
of Marsala
certainly yellow

They could be painted
together beside my
Mother's hand
on translucent paper
as if clouds pass
between her in heaven
and a tall fluffy cake
with the lightest odor
of an orange orchard
beside a gallon
of eggs whipped
with fresh air
in a wine infused dream

Barry G. Wick

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