chocolate chips

A day filed under success

Ends with a cup of decaf tea

And a handful of milk chocolate chips

From a secret bag 

Stashed in a drawer

Filled with cupcake papers

And expired rainbow sprinkles

inside

written in sharp pencil
inside the wings of a paper crane

fears exposed in graphite
for no one to see.

he says

this is our morning - the alarm goes off
on his side of the bed. he sleeps facing west.

he rises his torso and says "stop" to the robot
that lives inside the display. she stops.

i stir. he turns and speaks, but i can't understand
because my ears are still asleep. my eyes stuck closed.

"wha?" i lift myself and he says "i love you."
and i say "oh" and then "i love you too" and after 16 years

it just occurs to me this morning
that the first thing he says to me each day

is "i love you" and i wonder how long he's been doing that
and i feel both careless and adored as i bang my head on the wall

while trying to get my slippers on so I can feed that cats.

Magic

I am catogorically

a kitchen witch. 

My wand is a wooden spoon

Interchangeable with a rubber spatula.

My spell books are filled

With easy to find ingredients

And detailed instructions

That are easy to misunderstand

Without experience 

And familiarity with tools of the craft.

The results, the creations,

Have turned cold hearts

Into pursed lips, sighs of satisfaction,

Strangers in submission to my powers

Of confections. Wielded with precision 

and always for a price. 

Always a fair price.