Pudding

tenderly I whisk

milk and sugar

to a beautiful simmer

of soft bubbles

I carefully temper

the temperamental eggs

which just love

to scramble

as if frittata was a word

for a Spanish dance.

add in vanilla beans

the soft whispers of home

waft through my solitary kitchen

a wooden spoon

coated in sweetness

the pots of pudding are poured

into delicate

white

ramekins

the glass takes a bath

to toast

and firm

in the oven

I laugh

wondering

if that would work

on my thighs

finally set

finally cool

I sprinkle raw

crunchy

sugar

overtop like pixie dust

torch in hand

I marvel at how

such a thing of beauty

can come from

so much flame

crack…

scoop…

yum.