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Of Ginger Flakes Lemon Rind and Sugar Candy

Sipping in hasty gulps, he gingerly leaves
a grimace pasted on suave, chiseled porcelain
lingering over leftover tea-dredges,
a grumble muttered in air’s preoccupations~
for absentminded absence of ginger flakes
not brewed in his habitual cup of caffeine,
on this stereotyped afternoon.
She peels lemon skin
for piquant spoonfuls of citrus zest~
reminiscent of crisp March morning aromas,
to flavor baking escapades
of the wizened oven~
he hates chocolate cake for his birthday
too predictable for his eclectic tastes--
a scalded finger shatters her reverie;
he is no longer here
to delight in her thoughtful endeavors,
of maternal pampering.
She denudes and slices onions,
for an excuse to shed pent up emotions in brine,
confusing her own perceptions~
an unintentional placating bowl
of chicken curry graces the dinner table
to mellow moods of nuptial conflict~
still smarting from lingering flavor
of insipid, ginger-less brew,
but for abundance of chopped onions
begging respite from staleness~
their pungency refused
by a sophisticated refrigerator.
Tainting tongues of hours orange,
he sucks sugar-coated candy
from overfed nonchalance
of denim’s cornflower blues,
in silences streaked in whimsical smiles
and frowns of mixed feeling reflections,
if only to caress those memories,
vivid yet elusive, of homemade orange cake
sliced on anticipation-stained dusks,
on an adamant, homesick  birthday
that refuses to be celebrated…

26 Jun 15

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