WEDDING CAKE
The piece of cake is twelve months old,
hidden in the freezer.
According to local folk-lore,
it’s to be eaten on our anniversary,
to see how love’s appetite is holding up.
But should cake really be the deciding factor
in a relationship?
For all its time in cryo-temperatures,
it’s surely as stale as a grandparent’s jokes by his,
rock hard, unfitting for a memory
of that long-ago camera-snapping day.
That cake has served its time.
I vow we remove it from behind
the frozen steaks,
pretend to nibble on it,
then toss it in the trash.
We’ll have served tradition.
We just won’t have bitten
into that white and rose-red concrete frosting.
or tasted sugar in its dotage.
We can tell anyone who asks
that, after all this time,
the slice was still scrumptious.
The truth lies somewhere
in the touch, the feel of you,
the gentle salvos of your presence.
Meanwhile, lies can have their cake.
They can eat it to.
Bionote
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Harpur Palate and Columbia Review with work upcoming in the Roanoke Review, the Hawaii Review and North Dakota Quarterly.
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