His favorite
was red velvet.
All that
suffocating
richness.
He gobbled
in
great
bites,
demanded more.
The kitchen was
escape,
punishment. Hands red
from batter and hot dish water,
she cut him his third piece
and paused,
knife glinting in her eye.
She carried in a plate,
balanced over
the blade.
This desert
would be
sweet.