Saint Dunkin', Saint Krispy Kreme

Saint Dunkin’, Saint Krispy Kreme

 by Julie Steward

Toroid and tiny

terrible and torrid but always

with the blackest

coffee, your service begins.

Holy as an 8-track, you testify to a better time.

Promises and partakings, people

speaking to strangers like dervishes in the desert.

We wait in line for coffee, obsidian and hot.

And the dust of you, sugar everywhere, on fingertips

and promises we make as we blurt out

the name of someone we love,

or used to love,

one sweet symphonic a fake for another.

Is it better to start the day with you,

slam into sunrise’s inky streaks,

or find you, midday torpid, too tired

for torrid?

What of the secret sin of night? You

under covers and everywhere sugar and sheets?

Some kind of holy adultery,

some kind of nascent rebirth?

Toroid and tiny, open

the door

between savor and bite,

hold it,

hold it,

one minute more.

image from http://sageofdiscovery.com