Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Searching For Milk

Oh muffin of blue and brown,
flax and wheat,
raisin and berry,
how did you get to be so perfect?
So warm?
So soft in the middle?
You,
who were once nothing but flour in a bowl,
are now sinfully delicious.
You,
who were once nothing more than plain ingredients
in separate containers,
have been mixed,
as if by some sorcerer’s magic,
into something to marvel at.
I see you sitting there,
row after glorious row,
in the glass baking case,
lit from above
like a high-school beauty
on her way to the prom.
You are there begging me to
pick you up and put you in the unmarked brown paper bag,
that waits on the white counter.
You want me to reach my hand in
and feel your hard crusty top
just so I will have no choice but to
make my way with my fingers
to
your soft
curvaceous bottom
fully knowing
that when I do,
I will be unable to stop
and
I will eat
way too much of you.
Oh muffin of crumb
and desire.
Muffin of peach and pear
and mango.
Muffin of cherry and chocolate,
oatmeal and pumpkin.
Muffin of cranberry
and boysenberry.
Do not tempt me.
I am weak.
Why just the thought of you leaves me
searching
for milk.