Dance of the Cakes

after Wayne Thiebaud


The cakes dance and they dance and dance	
triple-tiered ballerinas pirouette down aisles of cream 	
a pink cheek turns a tango’s luscious corner
little empire of icing with its strawberry-crowned queen
tended by a court of white wedges, ladylike under 
layers of sugar and lace, crinoline and buttery crumb
watch them as they curtsy and waltz, sway on their gay plates
lemon chiffon leers from the bakery case at her audience of tongues
billows of angel food threaten custard floods
here’s a grandmother’s fantasy: all the dainty babes laid out in rows
a ribbon on a chin, a lock of chocolate curling down the brow
rosy bottoms powdered and powdered past rouge 
to where the spankings turn soft, sponges to a purple bruise 
and this is what came down when there wasn’t enough: 
black forests creeping with sweet creatures
cords of red velvet coiled tight as clotted hearts 
your teeth won’t survive this bite of alabaster
crystalline kiss, the blade of violet or rose
back home the bakeries were all about bread
yeast of wheat rising, yeast of the pleading souls
but here’s what the city has in store for you
little boy with your breath fogging the shop windows:
all your phantom urges lacquered fast behind fudge
and who is mindful of your gluttonies, patron saint
of pastries casting his glance across the counter
take your baker’s dozen back to mama 
skip and leap and smack your sticky lips 
knock a frosted knuckle on a succulent knee 
while the cakes dance and dance, dance and dance.