Oh Challah

Ode to a Perfect Breakfast
by Donald Max Caven and his Mom
in the waning days of summer
August 17, 2009

Oh, Challah, you wait for me
As my fingers fiddle with plastic parts.
A dry gooey-ness awaits me,
Twisty, mouth-watering, sweet, buttery,
My mouth will explode when I fill it with you.
Your yellow air-pockets pull away in layers,
Each to dissolve between my teeth
Like night fading into Don.
I beg for thee like a panting dog.
I scoop my cocoa with your tender crust,
Breaking the thin skin of tortured milk.

Oh Cocoa, painfully hot but incredibly sweet.
Cold thermometer spoon, a cooling pool
For the windstorm of my lips,
Which vaccuum you to my eager tongue.
I have no patience for you, spoon!
My straw makes whirlpools as I drink
An inch with each sip.

Oh, Nectarine, I can't eat you!
You're so perfect!
Round, porous, red-rimmed, shiny yellow meat,
Then again...
Slippery sweet, juicy...

Oh, Challah, why are you so perfect?
I'm so sorry when I've devoured you.