and, sweet potatoes. yum.

Daring Candlelit Giblets

Vyborg Nana’s banana cream pie
Was invented from necessity.
A feared black Baltic verboten curse fruit,
Brought five-thousand nautical miles
North by scrap iron boats,
Whose rusty faith won’t let her sink.
She won’t have it been for not.

Thin whipped cream
Gargles screams under her whirring machine.
Brooding on the Gangut under her watchful spot torch
She thrusts over the counter with a heavy canister of flame.
“Burn and shrivel, you caramel babies! I’ve birthed worse than you!”
The apron is covered in swatted finger marks
And charming accidents.

Hard-packed dough,
On buttered metal and bean baked,
Worked with stiff blame and
Wickedly forgiving hands
Earns a serving place at the head.

Up at her in gloaming proximity
If not had it been for wont,
Her deft blade work of turkey mercy,
Would have had us fainted from the sight.