The Dessert

The kitchen floor dissolves in autumn light,

As floating cubes of spice cake take their flight,

A gingerbread balloon drifts past my ear,

While strains of roasted amber fall like cheer.

Behold the bowl—a crystal sphere of space,

Where gravity forgets its proper place.

First rises custard, thick as harvest moons,

Whipped up by phantom bakers' silver spoons,

It glows with cinnamon and velvet cream,

A sunlit nebula inside a dream.

Then crumble rivers—ginger, sweet and brown—

Rain meteorites of sugar softly down.

The nutmeg stars ignite a festive spark,

Dispelling every shadow from the dark,

As whipped cream clouds descend in billowy heaps,

Where midnight butterscotch in silence sleeps.

A joyful tempest, swirling sweet and bright,

We eat the cosmos on an autumn night.