Brownies Giuliana Panzini
The vacant bowl lays staring up at you, A deep hole waiting to be filled.
The eggs are next. The worst of them all. Bowl ambushed— Striked repeatedly by shells.
It needs a companion, But for now, it stands.
Alone.
Runny, slimy, Infested with bacteria. Desperate for an end, This was not the company that was longed for.
You begin.
Melted, the butter plummets in, Uncomfortably warm. Coarse sugar joins, Rough, abrading.
And now?
The whisk.
Isolation was dreadful Before the butter and sugar came.
Alienation has never tasted so sweet.
Now, it is full— But with disdain.
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