Deep Pockets

Maple butter syrup

splits

on buttermilk pancakes

Sunday’s pinch of magic formed

tradition

it happened as it did

each time

I’d tie my thick brown hair back

hands ready with fork and knife

hovering...

that first cut - oozing, sticky core

and I'd devour the fluff

a flash of light on canines

complete.

Some nights,

a full moon

I have them for dinner

as dessert

you call it nonsense

and I make them, grumpy

you oblige,

eat them still

I chuckled inward

in the deepest layer right in the middle of that stack

are air bubbles

I've held on to that cushion

of air

never a bad memory.