Sugar Glass

Sometimes, I crave a box of candy—a whole box. If it says “share size,” all the better. But the candy never enriches the moment; it is the moment. It is a simple, distracting taste.

Unlike the dirt and unlike the Earth,

This sugar is a single shade of brown—

Granules like dress shoes, copied pairs,

Packed neatly in a closet—rotated

.

Unlike the day and unlike the clay

Sugar glass is brittle and fabricated—

Recipes routine as reluctant breakfast,

As your facade on a darkened screen

.

Unlike the noise of living joys

Sugar only whispers—

Shhh. Pour the portion, lose the time

Ponder a clock at 4:49

.

And with that sugar sweeten

Daily meals that rest upon a plate

That rests upon your bed—puffed pillows

That rest your sweetly dreaming head;

.

Saccharine glass upon the tongue,

Keeps all your fingers clean

Of dirt and Earth, clay and day,

And all the noise of living joys

…