The shirt I pull on after still smells like me
fresh after a shower, the magnolia oil I slathered on my limbs
this morning in pumps of two or three or four:
numbers which meant something when I counted them.
//
Like the steps up and down to our apartment.
I count them as I go, one two three four one two three four,
trusting in the toe fall,
hoping for the heel connect.
//
The wedding cake I made today, in this shirt, had swiss buttercream.
Which you may not know means I prepared: I
wiped the bowls and beaters and paddles with vinegar.
I collected egg whites, pure, which tolerate no fat. I
whisked and whisked and whisked with sugar over fire,
then beat and beat and beat in butter.
Four layers of cake and three layers of filling -
I pretend the shell of icing makes four, which makes it even,
which makes it right.
//
I stood outside the chapel, with cigar smoke curling around my hair,
which was also curled, heatless, around silk rods I carried through the night,
which held me through the beating and the whipping and the sleeping,
all of which the curls held. And the icing held.
//
And I held him, in the cab home,
and I almost cried at the beauty of it all:
I made a cake, and two people got married,
and I drank until my shoes fell off, and all of it was ok.
//
One two three four one two three four:
It's all ok. It's all even. It all held.
About the Creator
Suze Kay
Pastry chef by day, insomniac writer by night.
Catch me here for spooky stories, crushable poems, and overall weird thoughts.
Or, let me catch you on my website!
Spotify Wrapped 2023
Y'all it's that time of year, anticipated by many a Spotify user. Wrapped first started in 2016, although a less developed version "Year in Music" had been premiered the year before. Wrapped gives users a look at the music they listen to from January 1st to October 31st, which, at least for me, is usually a moment to be surprised (or not).
By Alexandria Stanwycka day ago in Beat
Comments (6)
I'm appalled I didn't comment on this sooner. Suze, this is truly magnificent. There's an almost chaotic sense of OCD here, not a purist one, which renders this poem so transient, as though the numbers are meant for THIS DAY only and nothing else, the 1234 repeated from daybreak to day's end as a mantra for holding the stress together in an order only you can control. It's beautifully done. I think your stanza about curls holding is my favorite, for it exemplifies this absolutely perfectly. Everything held. And it was beautiful. Now, we can let go.
Omg this was so good. I'm guessing this is autobiographical because of the wedding and the baking? I've been hoping to hear about the wedding in your poems!! And the cake looks great!! I have a special soft spot for poems that include symptoms of OCD in them because its soo underdone and I desperately want to read more like this!! The way it all came together to form those last two lines was just so clever and satisfying, a literal masterpiece! I was going to tell you that 'trusting in the toe fall, hoping for the heel connect' was my favourite part but now I have no idea what was because it was all so perfect. Ahh I just absolutely adore your poems!!!
I really enjoyed the story telling rythem of this poem. As someone with OCD and a need for even numbers, I also really connected
"And I held him, in the cab home," My mind could go a couple of different ways with this.
great poem, love it.
In this poetic masterpiece, the dance of daily rituals and the creation of a wedding cake intertwine seamlessly, celebrating life's symmetrical beauty and the comforting rhythm of "one two three four." Keep up the good work. Hope in Top