Your acidity is crinkling purple lemon skins
Prickling miniature shock wakes
Curled up at the edge of my fingertips

Because this is why they call pepper pepper
Lemonade is lemonade because
(Imagine meek wads of egg yolk)
Their pounce is stinging tar,
Little drizzles, icy sizzling, onto
My papery stupor
Doldrums, the lumps
Make up my taste buds

Boiled sugar, brown maple
Melts my passé bones
Raw peppermint crackle crisp poison
Abridged, my arteries cough from inside out
Crinkling fresh lemon tea,

What does it mean to keep beautiful beautiful?
Instant blueberry pie crust – just add water!
30 degrees, 350 degrees,
Three steps, bake and serve, to make
Grandma’s old-style pastries

But us as silverware, we know better
Than to dip our bruised little toes into a bowl
Of chilled vinegar
The sting reminds me of lemon pies.