Standing straight against the frozen sky
Your skeletons are the exquisite calligraphy
Of the season
Your name is writ
Not in water
But with wind
The Suicidal Pie
the pie sat there
sweet and quiet
but I knew the truth
all it wanted was to die
a small
thing that no one
suspected of being anything
but slightly cooled
with strawberries on top
Modern Poets Magazine 